A Bar of Soap!
by Fatality
Summary: Episode 21 - Marth and Midna deal with the morning after, Wolf uncovers the depths of Fox's betrayal, Falco and Yami make plans to visit Falco's old fashion agency, Link finally makes a move on Lucario, and various Brawlers step in to train Vick in the event that Wesker and Legato attack again.
1. The One Where People Start Showing Up

I feel the need to explain this project before I begin.

In the 1970's a television show called SOAP ran for four very successful seasons before it at last stopped airing - its creators never expected it to be such a success, mainly because it was written as a spoof on all daytime soap operas of the day. It was a bizarre show, filled with everyday occurrences such as demonic possession, adultery, kidnapping, embezzlement, murder, and the list goes on, but most of all it was full of LAUGHTER.

I myself am not a comedic writer; the majority of my work is science fiction of fantasy. I spent several weeks toying with the idea of taking a fandom by storm with an interesting mix of drama, humor, and unbelievable happenstances before I chose Super Smash Brothers Brawl, mostly because of the freedom it gives the writer (being a hybrid of many different video games). But I digress.

So here it is. Review often, review kindly, but most of all, LAUGH.

* * *

><p>The Jeep's tires crunched over the gravel and slowed to a stop in front of a three-story beach house, and Link was the first to poke his head out of the top of the vehicle to investigate. It was pretty much what the real estate agent had advertised it would be: just a lakefront cottage (though the term 'mansion' might have been more accurate) with a large gravel driveway, a massive backyard, and a sandy sidewalk that wended down to the lake. The trees that towered around it were old and strong and provided the grounds with excellent shade on sunny days; Link found that he was pleased with their temporary residence.<p>

Ike cut the engine and hopped out of the Jeep, heading up the driveway with a little less enthusiasm. "Is this it?"

Link vaulted out of the back, not bothering to retrieve his bag, and looked worriedly at Marth; the prince, thankfully, seemed to share the Hylian's optimism. "How quaint. It's exactly what we wanted, isn't it?"

They shouldered their gear and treaded up the path after Ike, who led the way inside looking slightly harrassed. "Remind me again what the point of all this is? I had a great training facility, unlimited supplies..."

"It's exactly that kind of uptight attitude that landed you here with us," Link informed the stockier swordsman, flashing a wink Marth's way. "You need to learn how to relax, big guy - look at this place! Sun, sand, water, and there's a liquor store within walking distance. The city's only a few miles up the road, and you know that girls are gonna dig this place..."

At the mention of women Ike's face softened, and instead of griping aloud he decided to mumble beneath his breath; Marth and Link smiled at one another.

"The backyard is large enough to train in, Ike, I wouldn't worry," Marth informed his friend, peeking out the blinds at the grassy slopes behind the cottage - it was incredibly spacious and well-shaded, thanks to all the trees. "This place is enormous... how many bedrooms...?"

"Sixteen, according to that real estate lady who talked me into renting it," shouted Link from the kitchen, and he dumped his gear on the dining room table for the moment being while Ike raided the fridge. "I don't believe this place... three levels, a sublevel, an industrial-sized kitchen, a pool around the side, a boat dock on the lake, and the fridge is even fully-stocked! And I'm pretty sure you can access the roof from the third floor - did we score or what?"

"You and your visions," scoffed Ike, his mouth full of cold chicken. "Still... it has potential."

"Somebody's finally coming around!" exclaimed Link, elbowing his comrade in the ribs, and scooping up his equipment he called, "I think I'll just snag a room on this floor - closer to the kitchen - and start getting unpacked. Marth?"

"A room next to yours, I suppose." The slender swordsman followed Link to the east wing on the first floor and let his belongings pile on the floor beside his new bed; outside his window the lake glistened in the sun, perfect and pristine. He kicked off his supple brown boots and unclasped his belt, letting his sword fall to the ground. "Link - do you think anyone else will come?"

The Hylian's laughter rang from down the hall, as though he found Marth's skeptism amusing. "Are you kidding? Look at this place! They'll be beating the door down to spend a summer here with us - I know for a fact that Pit is coming later this afternoon, and he said he was bringing a friend... And what's a party without Falco? He'll spend a week or two here at least."

Ike stalked into Marth's room, clearly displeased that he hadn't gotten to choose his room first, before backing out and turning down the hall, settling for the room on Marth's right.

None of them were at all interested in wasting the day unpacking, so as soon as their essential items were stored away they explored the rest of the house. There were pleasant surprises at every turn - the sublevel housed an in-home bar, entertainment center, and pool table, while the third floor opened out onto a sun deck complete with jacuzzi - and, as it turned out, the roof was accessible from the sun deck, a feature they knew they would all enjoy once they'd gotten unpacking out of the way. Link and Marth headed down the path to comb the lake, pleased to hear from their neighbors that the wildlife department allowed fishing, boating, and swimming in the nearby waters, and when in half an hour or so they had returned, Ike was waiting for them on the rear-facing patio with a beer in his hand.

"We've got company already," he told them gruffly, quaffing half his drink in two gulps, "and they brought their stuff, so I'm guessing they're planning on staying."

In the foyer the pair were happy to find Pit, the former kid leader of Palutena's grand army, in the company of Kirby, a denizen and hero of Dreamland, with a great deal of luggage in tow; they shook hands and greeted each other fondly before gathering up all the traveling gear and hauling it up to the third floor (where both Pit and Kirby had decided to reside). The room Pit selected was eclectic, interesting; it seemed to be a former greenhouse - all its walls were made of glass.

"Looks like you won't be spending any time naked up here," Link joked, and he dashed out laughing when Pit looked disappointed.

Most of the equipment turned out to be Pit's - Kirby needed very few things to survive, besides a great deal of food - and Link found the plumpy pink creature reclining in a tanning chair on the sun deck, already napping and snoring contentedly; smiling to himself, pleased at how his newest harebrained scheme was developing, he bounded downstairs to check on Ike.

He found Ike, and the crown prince Marth, both relaxing in the shade of the back porch.

"I changed my mind," Ike told him when he stepped out onto the warm floorboards to join them. "I like this place. It's pretty sweet."

"How many beers has he had?" Link asked, frowning over at Marth, who was enjoying a lemonade.

"I'm not absolutely certain..." Marth ran a hand through the navy-blue strands of his hair, thinking. "I think perhaps three."

Link shook his head and laughed. "No wonder he likes the place. At this rate he'll be passed out by dinnertime - and we'll be out of booze! Thank God the liquor store is within walking distance..."

The afternoon continued to pass in a similar fashion, filled with states of half-hearted unpacking and boisterous conversation, until around seven o' clock when the doorbell pinged off the walls of the cottage, announcing more guests. Link was the first to the door, followed by an enthusiastic Pit -

The man at the door was not someone they had been expecting, but they were still thrilled to see him - Lucario, the Aura Pokemon, the last of his kind and certainly the most exceptional.

"...Lucario! I don't believe it! You actually came!" exclaimed Link, taking the Pokemon's lightly-packed knapsack off his shoulder and ushering him inside. "Come in! There are rooms open on every floor still, where - ?"

_I have brought a friend,_ echoed Lucario's smooth-as-velvet voice in their minds, stopping Pit from shutting the door by extending a paw out behind him, and they all glanced out the door and into the driveway. Beside Ike's Jeep the Dragoon hovered serenely, the mode of transportation that had delivered Kirby and Pit to their doorstep, and directly behind it was a black luxury sportscar of very expensive import, out of which stepped Meta Knight, his cloak trailing behind him in a breeze.

"My greetings," said Meta Knight when he joined the others at the top of the stair, and while Link shook his hand Pit ogled the sleek black car with a slightly open mouth, completely awed.

"That sportscar is AMAZING, Meta, is it YOURS?!" stammered the angel.

"Of course not," grated Meta Knight, and he slipped past Link and disappeared into the basement to unpack his belongings. Link and Pit both turned their attentions onto Lucario, who smiled in his own peculiar way with his eyes.

_Yes, it is mine,_ he assured them telepathically, retrieving his knapsack from its peg near the door and traipsing off after Meta Knight; both men followed him, still at a loss for words. _I could not resist, you see; I have a weakness for very fast vehicles, and I assure you, gentlemen, that THAT is VERY fast._

Link shook the stupor vigorously from his mind as they followed Lucario to the largest room in the basement, all the way at the back of the sublevel in the west wing, and said, "Something tells me that you're going to fit in really well here."

They played poker, all seven of them, on the spacious back porch while the sun sank ever lower toward the sparkling surface of the nearby lake; Kirby took the Dragoon into town for pizza, and they relived the epic battles against Tabuu and Subspace over various alcoholic beverages until a very late hour. One by one they vanished into the house for a bit of sleep, certain that more of their fellows would turn up in the morning, certain that their antics were only just beginning.

Link was closing up the sun deck when he noticed Pit, wrapped in a town from the waist down and heading toward the spa room at the opposite end of the third floor; he slung a friendly arm around the angel's shoulders and steered him to a halt just outside the door. He could hear the water running; steam was pouring from the crack between the bottom of the door and the carpet.

"Showertime?" asked Link with a smile, and Pit nodded, returning the gesture of friendship. "Let me ask you a question, Pit - do you know most useful thing about soap?"

Pit's smile disappeared, and he regarded Link as a sane person considers an asylum patient. "Uh... it gets you clean?"

Link leaned companionably against the wall beside the door, crossing his arms and gazing at Pit as though preparing to share a bit of infinite wisdom. "Everybody knows that, but let me tell you something that someone once told me. When Zelda and I were kids and she was still in Impa's care, Impa told me that 'the most important thing about a bar of soap is not that it cleanses our skin, but that it washes away the difficulties of a day gone by, so that we can enjoy another day when we wake'. To be honest, Impa always scared me a little when I was young, but something about what she said stuck with me... that was fifteen years ago, you know, and I remembered every word. Strange, huh?"

And he shrugged away from the wall, leaving Pit to mull over what he had just said, yawning and stretching as he retreated downstairs.

Pit paused outside the spa room for a moment longer, then chuckled beneath his breath and went inside.


	2. The One Where Pit Wants to be a Racer

The jagged edge of the golden sword flashed, amber in the sunlight, straight in for Pit's stomach; the intricate curved blade in his right hand snapped down, a sloppy parry but a parry nonetheless, and foiled the attack, but only briefly. The owner of the cruel golden blade rolled right around Pit's arm, using the angel's steady stance as a pivot point, and cut three superficial gashes into his flesh - one just above the knee, one across the midsection, and one along the deltoid muscle.

Pit jumped back and threw the dual blades that comprised the sacred Bow of Palutena to the ground in disgust; Meta Knight let his sword droop, point first, into the grass.

Seated in a row on the roof, Link, Marth, Ike, Lucario, and Kirby all glanced confusedly at one another (though Marth looked more amusing than baffled in his trendy blue 70's sunglasses), surprised at Pit's sudden temper. For the most part Palutena's chosen emissary always seemed rather good-natured; it was strange to see him so obviously irritated, though not at all surprising that he had been a poor match for Meta Knight. By all accounts the captain of the grand ship Halberd had been in the throes of rigorous training since the day of Tabuu's fall, a feat that none of them could boast as shared.

"Pit! What happened?" called down Link, setting aside his glass of lemonade and leaning forward, a crease in his brow. "It could've been worse - he could've skewered you, Meta Knight, am I right?"

"Yes," growled Meta Knight, leaning on his sword now; its tip had disappeared into the earth beneath his weight. "Six times. Why do you hesitate, young one? Where is your focus?"

Pit stooped to retrieve the dual blades and fused them back into the beautiful bow, inspecting it for damage. There was, of course, none. "I don't know... I think I need to quit. Does someone want to take my spot?"

Without waiting for a reply he trudged off around the side of the house, hanging his head in shame and self-loathing; Kirby bounced off the roof and into the grass of the yard, dashing after him, while Link and Ike both clambered down and descended the back-porch staircase toward the waiting Meta Knight.

"It is two on one now, is it?" rumbled Meta Knight, and he tugged his magnificent blade free of the earth and readied himself. "That is fine with me, my fellow swordsmen; do not doubt my size, I can still effectively slash out your knees."

Link laughed aloud, unsheathing the Master Sword as he approached, but Ike's face barely twitched into a smirk as he drew Ragnell from its bejeweled scabbard and balanced its significant weight evenly in both hands. The two taller swordsmen circled Meta Knight, clearing their thoughts and preparing for battle, as in the center Meta Knight used his peripheral vision to keep them both in check.

Marth lounged back on the shingles, stealing a drink of Link's lemonade, but perked right back up when Lucario's eyes flashed and he turned his head in the opposite direction, toward the unseen driveway on the other side of the roof.

_We have more guests, it seems,_ floated Lucario's voice through Marth's mind, and the Pokemon dashed away across the roof, leaving the crown prince alone to watch the spectacle unfolding below.

Lucario leapt down and landed gracefully on the topmost stair of the front porch, taking stock of the vehicles resting on the uneven gravel - his pristine sportscar, Ike's beat-up Jeep, Kirby's hovering, humming Dragoon, and crunching to a halt just beside it a motorcycle, bearing a single rider who had carelessly disregarded his helmet. Falco Lombardi dismounted the bike and paused to preen a few feathers before loping to meet Lucario on the porch.

"Luca! Been awhile, bud. Good to see ya." Falco held out a fist in greeting, and the Pokemon banged his fist lightly into it, smiling his strange eyes-only smile.

_Link has been expecting you, but as I understand it he didn't think you would show._ Lucario led the way into the foyer; Falco, toting only a bulging backpack, needed no help with luggage. _Meta Knight and I took up residence in the sublevel, Link, Marth, and Ike have all claimed rooms on this floor, and Pit and Kirby are on the third floor. There are rooms available on all floors, but no one on the second._

"Guess that's where I'll be, then... I'll get settled later, been dying for a beer..."

They traipsed into the kitchen to find Pit seated at the dining room table, slumped down and looking particularly glum, and Kirby perched merrily on the countertop, an enormous bronze pot simmering on the stove. Kirby chirped at Falco in welcome; Lucario rummaged in the fridge for a moment before offering the avian a long-necked bottle.

"What's this?" laughed Falco, gesturing at the Pokemon's empty paws. "Somebody's gotta share a welcome drink with me!"

_I am sure Ike would be happy to, when he and Link are finished sparring with Meta Knight._ Lucario shrugged his slender shoulders, nonchalant. _I myself do not drink._

To his surprise, Falco winked at him. "Give me a week and you'll be an alcoholic. Where's the match?"

They joined Marth on the roof and spent an hour watching Meta Knight hold his own against two of the best swordsmen they had ever known; it was obvious in Meta Knight's movements that he had been taking his off-season training very seriously, and though the three eventually agreed to call a stalemate on account of fatigue and the heat the littlest swordsman had, true to his word, successfully cut spiderweb patterns across all four kneecaps.

Marth, Falco, and Lucario met Link, Meta Knight, and Ike on the shady back porch when the match was over, Falco with a fourth beer in his hand and completely unfazed, Ike with a brew instead of water, and Link with twin icepacks taped to his knees - Meta Knight was looking smug. Kirby dashed out, still in his enormous floppy chef's hat, bearing a platter with a mountain of sandwiches for lunch; Pit was still nowhere to be seen.

"Listen, Meta," spoke up Link around a mouthful of turkey and cheese, "you've got some serious moves, but give me a few days to get back into shape and I'll be slicing out YOUR knees. Consider that a promise."

"I would be more intimidated if I did not doubt your ability to REACH my knees," Meta Knight grumbled, and they all shared a laugh at the smallest swordsman's expense.

"That's tough talk, coming from a guy who had to tag team just to break even," Falco said to Link, ignoring the sandwiches in favor of alcohol, and the Hylian's face reddened at the remark as the avian snickered.

"Oh yeah? I'd like to see YOU take Meta single-handedly, Lombardi, especially partially intoxicated."

Falco shook his head, patting one of the twin laser pistols holstered cowboy-style at his hips. "Oh, believe me, I couldn't. If I gotta fight Meta, I'm fighting him from a long fucking way away. Is there anybody here who is stupid enough to think they could go blow-for-blow with him in an even face-off, anyway?"

There was a moment's pause as everyone shifted guiltily in their seats - then, from a shady corner of the porch, Lucario's voice wafted up. _I could._

There was a spattering of laughter; Lucario seemed unaffected, but Meta Knight narrowed his eyes in curiosity. "Is that a fact?"

_I have confidence in my abilities,_ answered the Pokemon enigmatically, and though the others continued to laugh Lucario's face was undeniably smug._ Why do you think I did not leap instantly at the chance to battle you? I was memorizing your movements, your strategies._

Meta Knight's curiosity disappeared, replaced by a more serious expression; the others abruptly stopped thier chuckling.

_And since you cannot claim the same of me, I am automatically at an advantage against you,_ finished Lucario. _For example, it seems you have a knee-gouging fetish that none of us can satisfy. Though I sincerely doubt you would EVER come close enough to me in a fight to put that sword of yours to any use._

The challenge hung, unanswered, in midair, until Meta Knight leaned around Kirby to tap his glass of iced tea against the Pokemon's in wordless surrender. "Later, then, when the sun has gone down. I don't wish to duel in this heat."

"Damn, Luca," whistled Falco.

"You're devious," agreed Marth.

Ike slouched out of his chair and vanished briefly into the house; when he returned, he brought with him some terrible news: "I got the last beer."

There was a general uproar at this, followed by Falco and Link leaping on their friend and pummeling him for the bottle; Ike threw them both off as though they weighed mere ounces and reclaimed his chair, popping the aluminum top off and savoring the alcohol. The others glared daggers at him.

"Okay, about that," sighed Link. "We've got to come up with some kind of a system on trips to the liquor store; I'm sure as hell not buying booze every day, and with Ike and Falco drinking us into the ground, it looks like that's how often we'll have to go. Any ideas?"

"Yeah - fuck you, and buy your own beer," cackled Falco, holding his empty bottle upside-down in the hopes that a last drop or two would fall onto his tongue.

"Oh, Jesus, shut up, I'll draw up a schedule after lunch," snarled Ike. "We'll take it in rotations."

"Seeing as how we're all either renown heroes or exiled princes with a shitload of money, actually buying this stuff shouldn't be a problem," said Link hopefully.

"I rather resemble that last remark," whined Marth, pushing his shades up onto his forehead momentarily to shoot a poisonous glare at the Hylian.

Ike kicked his feet up onto the patio table, displacing the now-empty bronze platter; it clattered down the steps and settled into the grass, gleaming in the afternoon sun. None of them bothered to retrieve it right away. "Well, if you're an exiled prince with a shitload of money, you can afford to make two rotations."

"Go to hell," snapped Marth, sticking out his tongue, and they all laughed when the prince lowered his sunglasses in protest.

There was perhaps a minute or peace and quiet, then Link sat up a little straighter in his chair and asked, "Say... what happened to Pit? Is he okay?"

Kirby chirruped loudly and set to talking rapidly in a language they could not understand; everyone exchanged glances, completely at a loss, until Lucario said, _Apparently Pit is displeased with his performance earlier and would like to be alone._

Marth was awed. "You understood all that?"

_Yes. I have a basic understanding of the little one's language, and what I do not know I learned from Jigglypuff several months ago, who understood him quite well._ Lucario sipped idly at his iced tea, his gaze far away, and added, _It is clear that Pit has not trained at all since the defeat of Tabuu and Subspace. I sincerely doubt he will join in our matches again until he has taken the time to re-evaluate his abilities, and hone them._

"I could not fight him seriously," agreed Meta Knight, in as somber a tone as they had ever heard him use. "He has lost his fighting edge."

Link craned his neck to peer up toward Pit's eclectic greenhouse-bedroom; the sun reflected brutally off every glassy wall, and he could not see inside. "I'll talk to him tonight, after he's had a chance to cool off. If he needs to re-train, I can help him. I didn't devote my entire life to training in the off-season like you did, Meta, but I sure as hell didn't spend the whole time sitting on my ass."

Meta Knight brushed one gloved hand tenderly across a several inches-long cut along his arm, the only injury he had sustained during his two-on-one match with Link and Ike earlier that day. "I do not doubt that."

Ike drained the last of his beer and tossed the bottle into a garbage bin at the corner of the patio; rising he stretched the last of the fatigue out of his muscles and said, "Right, well, I'm heading to the liquor store up the hill. If Lucario is as tough as he says he is, I want to be sloshed when I watch this kind of entertainment. Anyone up for a ride?"

In the end only Meta Knight volunteered, and the two left together shortly afterward; Link leaned back comfortably in his chair, content in the shade, while Kirby bounded down the stairs to retrieve the discarded platter and bustled back to the kitchen to clean up. Marth, his eyes hidden behind the dark lenses, snored softly where he sat.

"If I was a betting man, I'd say that our prince has grown soft since Tabuu's fall too," murmured Link with a snicker, watching Marth snooze in his lounge chair. "Maybe he and Pit would make a decent match for each other; I don't think Marth has lifted Falchion since we got here."

Falco giggled and then said, "Lucario, are you really as ready for Meta as you said you were? Or were you just blowing smoke?"

Lucario's low, grating laughter echoed within their minds, but other than that the Pokemon gave no answer. Link relaxed for a few minutes longer, then left his chair and went in search of Pit.

The angel's room, though still rather eccentric-looking because of its hardwood floor and glassy walls that allowed for no privacy, was actually breathtaking when Link saw it for the first time. Pit had pushed his mattress into the westernmost corner of the room and covered it with a magnificent golden throw and several crocheted pillows; half the floor was covered by a floaty silver rug, and a small sound system stacked upon a chestnut cabinet was playing delicate flute music in the background. Palutena's bow was hanging lovingly over the door; Pit was just hanging up the phone when Link let himself in.

"Everything okay?" asked the Hylian, noting the melancholy look in the angel's deep brown eyes.

Pit didn't answer right away, but scooted over on his mattress to make room for Link; the older swordsman waited patiently for a response, until Pit finally reached over and turned the volume down on the sound system and said, "I'm not cut out for this warrior business, you know. Meta Knight should've turned me into mincemeat out there - instead he went easy on me. Do you have any idea how that feels?"

Link shrugged as though it didn't matter. "I've lost loads of fights. Don't let it bother you so much. We'll get you back into shape in no time."

"I give up." Link's eyes widened when Pit said the words, shocked at how emphatic they sounded. Pit was looking crestfallen. "I can't do it, and everyone knows it... I should be doing something I have an interest in, at least."

The angel's tone of voice suggested that he had something in mind, so Link prompted, "Which is...?"

Pit finally looked up from the golden throw and met Link's gaze, strangely excited. "Okay - I know you're gonna think I'm crazy, but... I've decided to join the Mario Kart Grand Prix over at Mushroom Kingdom."

Link toppled off the mattress and crashed onto the hard wood floor, cursing vehemently as he sat up and massaged the back of his head. Pit's enthusiasm disappeared. "Are you kidding?!"

"Why is that so ridiculous?!" exclaimed Pit, enraged, as Link laughed.

"Well, for one, you're not a legal citizen of the Mushroom Kingdom, you idiot," Link pointed out, still chortling to himself. "And, most importantly, you don't have a vehicle that the MKGP tournament committee would accept. Did you even think this through? Look, you're overreacting to getting beaten by Meta Knight - it's natural. But it sounds like Lucario is gonna take him down later, so why don't you just forget this whole thing and come watch the match later? Ike will be back soon with beer."

"I am NOT overreacting," insisted Pit childishly, glaring at the older swordsman with intense dislike. "I already called the tournament committee!"

Link blinked several times, flustered, before saying, "...You did?"

"Yeah, I did! And they said they'd make an exception since I'm such a renown hero, so I don't have to get Mushroom Kingdom citizenship... They even said they'd sponsor me, and the deal comes with a starter's kart or bike, my choice, until I can afford a better one."

The Hylian wasn't sure how to respond - Pit's proposition was the most ludicrous thing he had ever heard, but if he'd already phoned the tournament committee he was obviously serious about joining up... Shaking his head to clear it he said slowly, "Uh... Pit? Can you even drive a kart? Or a bike, for that matter?"

"Of COURSE I can!" Pit roared, irritated, and the sudden outburst sent Link sprawling to the floor again, where he laid for several seconds, cursing anew. "My qualifying tryouts are tomorrow morning, and I'm going!"

Link took his feet, his head throbbing from coming in contact with the floor twice, and backed for the door, holding his hands up placatingly. "Okay, Pit... don't leave without saying goodbye, okay? Good luck..."

And he pulled the angel's door shut behind him, relieved to be out of the room.

In the kitchen, Ike and Meta Knight had at last returned with enough liquor to front their own alcohol supply store; Link padded down to the sublevel, where he found Lucario and Falco shooting a game of pool upon the green-felt table, while Kirby watched happily. When he slouched into one of the barstools at the built-in bar in the corner and sighed wearily Falco looked up, twirling his poolstick effortlessly in one hand. "What's eating you?"

Link covered his face with his hands, muffling his voice when he said, "Pit's lost his fucking mind."

"I thought you were going to tell me something I didn't already know," laughed Falco, and he returned to circling the table, looking for a decent shot.

Lucario raised his head to regard Link. _What happened? Is everything alright?_

"Oh, everything's fabulous - Pit thinks he pisses glitter, so he's going to join the Mario Kart Grand Prix. Tomorrow he's running a qualifying race at Mushroom Kingdom - how big of a spatula do you think I'll need to scrape his remains off the pavement?"

Falco's poolstick glanced off the cue ball, sending it skipping across the table into one of Lucario's striped pool balls before it tipped over the railing and crashed onto the floor; the striped ball he had accidentally struck rolled serenely into one of the corner pockets.

_I appreciate your incompetence,_ laughed Lucario.

The avian flashed him an obscene gesture, then they both turned to face Link. "Is he crazy? Is this all just because Meta mopped the floor with his face? Tell him there are more creative ways for him to get himself killed, if he's looking for options."

Link snorted mirthlessly and uncovered his face. "What are we gonna do? Obviously we can't just let him go out and do this - he'll crawl back here humiliated, and be worse off than he was before."

"Or he'll realize that even though he's a shitty hero, he's an even shittier driver, and when he gets back he'll have new respect for life." Falco sent his poolstick spinning end over end before catching it effortlessly in the opposite hand, grinning at his own joke. "I say let him go, Link, what's the worst that could happen?"

"He could crash into a pool of lava and incinerate on contact. He could skid off an ice floe and into a frozen pool and die of hypothermia. He could get eaten by a piranha plant." Link ticked all these suggestions off on his fingers, gazing thoughtfully up at the ceiling as he did so.

_All distinct possibilities,_ agreed Lucario, and without even looking at the table he used his aura to levitate his own poolstick, tapping the cue ball with its felt tip and sinking three of his own balls simultaneously. Kirby clapped enthusiastically.

Falco's face soured. "When you fall asleep tonight, I'm suffocating you with a shower curtain, Lucario."

The Pokemon just chuckled and sank the eight ball in another effortless movement. _You will be hard-pressed to ever catch me sleeping, you flea-ridden carrion bird._

Link laughed at both of them, his quarrel with Pit momentarily forgotten, and led the way upstairs. "Are you still gonna wow all of us with a smashing defeat of Meta Knight this evening, Luca?"

_I suppose I could oblige you all with some manner of spectacle that involves a similar outcome,_ snickered Lucario's telepathic voice. _But only after I've eaten - Kirby, could I trouble you for... something?_

The hero from Dreamland chattered merrily in reply and dashed ahead of them into the kitchen, wrestling back into his chef's hat as he went.


	3. The One Where Lucario Fights Meta Knight

The news that Pit would be running a qualifying race the next day in front of the Mario Kart Grand Prix tournament committee shocked everyone - which offered Link some measure of relief from thinking that he had overreacted to the announcement himself. Ike and Falco, the more heartless members of the household, tore the idea into little pieces within minutes, and Link was silently grateful that Pit was still taking refuge in his room to save him from hearing their views.

Kirby whipped up a delicious broccoli and cheese soup for their dinner, complete with a caesar salad and a mound of garlic bread; when they all thanked him for his tremendous cooking he waved off their cries and chattered back at them harmoniously, and after Lucario's translation they came to understand that cooking was his favorite pasttime, and he was thrilled to have an excuse to do it three (sometimes four!) times a day. The others made it a point to compliment him after every meal (for they understood that their own cooking skills were limited, and without Kirby they would either starve to death, order takeout every day, or convert to a strictly alcoholic diet).

Link took the time to inspect the fridge after helping Kirby clean up the kitchen, and was astounded by all the drink Ike and Meta Knight had acquired. Their new stash took up almost all the room the fridge had to offer with various brands of beer, tequila, vodka, rum, ingredients for at least ten different kinds of shots, and, of course, juices to mix all these things with. The Hylian was certain the bill had been staggering, and he asked Ike about this.

"It wasn't a problem," said Ike with a shrug. "I swiped Marth's Visa while he was asleep."

"We practically need a separate fridge for all this shit," said Link in an awed voice. "Where will Kirby keep all the food?"

"In cupboards and pantries. Besides, there's an ice chest in the basement, dude, we'll get by."

Falco overheard this as he stooped to claim a beer and added, "I nicknamed my liver Tabuu - because it's evil and needs to be punished!"

He left Ike and Link laughing at his blatant alcoholism and headed to the roof.

In the backyard they found Meta Knight in the center of the field of grass, walking his sword Galaxia through a series of complicated sword techniques in slow motion; Marth was setting out shot glasses along the flatter surface of the roof and filling them mostly full with some pinkish-orange liquid; Kirby was topping them all off with a bit of dark red drink. Falco whistled low and inspected one, pleased with their work.

"I wanna know what I'm ruining my insides with before I drink whatever the hell you just poured," Link warned, watching Marth as he finished.

"This is called an Airhead - it's peach Schnapps with cranberry juice." The exiled prince lifted one of the shot glasses and sniffed it before smiling to himself. "It's divine."

Ike accepted his from Falco. "Even though Marth drinks like a chick, he knows more shot recipes than anyone else I know."

Marth glowered at him. "You're a bitch."

"At least I don't drink like one!" was the laughing reply.

They gathered around and toasted one another before downing the shots, which turned out to be delicious - Link made a mental note to let Marth mix his drinks for the rest of his life. "It doesn't look like Pit's interested in this match; do you think he'll join us?"

"Probably not," sneered Falco. "He probably flew into town to buy a helmet, and some knee pads for the horrendous beating he's bound to get tomorrow."

"Full plate armor couldn't save that kid; he's a goner." Ike cracked open a beer with a merciless chuckle.

They shared a laugh (albeit guiltily) at Pit's expense before Link asked, "So where's Lucario? We can't really have this fight without him..."

Below in the yard, Meta Knight paused in his warm-up to call, "We agreed our duel would be at sundown; it is not yet the appointed hour. Lucario must be alone with his thoughts before battling an enemy in single combat - he takes it very seriously. He is an honorable man - he will come."

Shielding his eyes Link gazed out toward the lake, beyond which the sun was setting; only a tiny sliver of red-gold remained above the horizon. "Guess it'll be soon, then."

"Not soon enough," growled Ike distastefully, and turning to Marth he brandished his shot glass. "Pour me another, bitch."

Within ten minutes the sun had all but disappeared; when the last golden ray gave way to the encroaching twilight a flicker of blue flame caught their attention at the opposite end of the roof... It was Lucario, wrapped in the pulsing radiance of his aura, the only light in the sudden darkness. Meta Knight ceased his sword routines and watched the Pokemon levitate down to the grass. Their eyes met - neither one moved.

On the roof, Falco actually put down his beer, eyes wide. "I wish I looked that flashy when I entered the ring - what a total badass. I bet ten bucks on Lucario."

"Ten on Meta Knight, he practically murdered Pit this afternoon," countered Ike without pause.

"Ten and a case of beer on Luca," added Link.

"A bottle of Jack Daniels on Meta," Marth interjected.

Kirby chirped to get their attentions before waving one arm (to indicate he wanted to place a bet, they supposed) and then brandishing an invisible sword (which they interpreted as a bet on Meta Knight).

"Your power is impressive - I sense that you are different than you were back then." Meta Knight advanced a pace or two, careful to keep his weight balanced. "You are much stronger than you were when I defeated you upon Glacier Peak, but beware: my power has also grown."

_That much I have discerned on my own,_ assured Lucario, and he lifted one paw out before him, watching the heatless blue flame dance upon his palm. _Shall we begin?_

Meta Knight flung off his cape with a flourish of his arm - his usually-concealed bat wings unfurled - and he charged forward, sword point leading.

Like a ballerina Lucario shifted his slight weight and practically danced to one side, completely unharmed as Meta Knight soared by; pivoting the smallest swordsman launched back toward his adversary, whipping Galaxia around in a slash that was almost impossible to follow. Lucario's eyes gleamed brightly in the darkness - he was viewing the battle in the spectrum of aura sight - and he twisted out of the way without so much as throwing a punch as he did so. Meta Knight planted his front foot and leapt up, bringing himself eye-level with the Pokemon, and jabbed straight ahead -

Lucario's aura pulsed like a shockwave and carried Meta Knight back about twenty feet, and flexing his wings the captain of the Halberd paused, irritated.

"I cannot fight you honorably," claimed Meta Knight, his sword hanging at one side. "You have no blade."

_Is that what ails you?_ Lucario's bemused laughter filled their minds, and he relaxed. _In that case, allow me to place us on the same level._ He stretched one hand out before him and focused his aura into a single fixed point - the blue energy flared like lightning, momentarily blinding them - and when the light had faded they saw a pale blue sword glimmering in his right hand, curved gracefully like a scimitar.

"What is this magic?" demanded Meta Knight, awed despite himself.

Lucario released the aura-born sword and let it hover before him, controlled by the Pokemon's command over his aura; the blade dipped and stabbed, as though he was testing his control with it. _This is an ability I taught myself during my training in the wilds - I call it Aura Substitution. It allows me to pool the strength of some of my aura into a more tangible object that I can control at will. So now I have a blade, little swordsman - am I honorable enough yet for you to battle seriously?_

Meta Knight scowled as he lifted his blade at the ready. "I will not be defeated by your sorcery!"

_And I will not be defeated by your bravado,_ growled Lucario, and with twice the speed he had displayed earlier he dashed in to meet his foe.

On the roof, Link, Falco, Ike, Marth, and Kirby were utterly speechless; all manner of alcoholic drinks had been set aside at this point, completely forgotten. Link's jaw hung open in admiration; Kirby prudently reached over and pushed it shut with a high-pitched giggle.

"Thanks," whispered the Hylian hoarsely.

Though certainly no swordsman, Lucario held his own in melee combat very well. He and Meta Knight moved together at incredible speed, attacking, dodging, parrying, feinting all as though their battle was choreographed. For several minutes the group lounging on the roof squinted, trying their best to follow the fight, until suddenly Lucario sprang away and took a knee, the Aura Sword clattering to the ground near his feet.

Falco's scouter clicked down over his left eye, magnifying his view of the Pokemon, and he alone could view the cause of the interruption: a great bloody gash in Lucario's chest, running the length of his torso from collarbone to ribcage. The wound was neither deep nor serious, but it would definitely slow his momentum; not far away, Meta Knight stooped to wipe the blood off Galaxia's golden blade with a patch of grass.

"Holy shit," murmured the avian, and the others glanced over at him excitedly. "Meta took a chunk out of Luca... damn that guy's good. Lucario had better back off unless he wants to see what his insides look like."

"Up the stakes?" Ike shot back in a whisper.

"Nah, same bet," said Falco tersely, squinting through his scouter at the scene.

"Chickenshit," cackled the stocky swordsman victoriously.

"I'll up," hissed Link, and the others glanced at him, wide-eyed. "Twenty-five and a case on Luca. He's holding back - Meta Knight's getting confident now, he can't see it."

"Luca's toast - you're on," Ike told him smugly, and they shook hands in time to accept the new shots of Airhead that Marth passed them.

In the field, Lucario was clambering to his feet; the sword flickered in the grass and vanished. _You ARE a mighty nemesis, Meta Knight - your skill with a blade cannot be questioned. Are you prepared to surrender, or shall we continue?_

Meta Knight didn't answer right away, too stunned by the Pokemon's audacity, then he clutched his stomach as his laughter rolled along the walls of the mansion. "It is YOUR blood that stained MY sword, Lucario - are you daft? I hold every advantage. Your aura is diminishing with each blow - you do not even have the focus to continue your Aura Substitution. Now you are weaponless."

_I am never weaponless,_ corrected Lucario, the echo of his voice pitched dangerously low, sending chills racing down Link's back. _And do you suppose my aura is truly diminishing, or that I dismissed the sword because I found it cumbersome?_

"I care not," snarled Meta Knight, and with a mighty flap of his wicked wings he soared toward Lucario again, sword flashing in the light of the Pokemon's aura -

"This shit is absolutely amazing," crowed Falco, taking up his beer again as he watched the renewed battle through the scouter's lens. "I wish I had some popcorn... dude, we should draw up some flyers and send 'em around to our neighbors, if we started charging people to watch this shit we'd be a seriously rich group of motherfuckers."

"Only if Meta and Luca took the ring every day, none of us would draw a crowd," joked Link, downing another shot. "I think I'm starting to feel a little woozy..."

"Lightweight," Marth accused with a wink.

"Bitch," Ike repeated.

Marth slapped Ike across the back of the head; the stockier swordsman didn't even flinch. "Blow me."

"Drop your pants, then, prince, and find something to hold on to."

Meta Knight's sword was a blur in the darkness but Lucario kept pace with it, contorting his body gracefully each time he needed to move aside, but he was also attacking now. His fists found holes in Meta Knight's defenses, jabbing here, chopping there, slowing the smallest swordsman down second by second -

A second cut, then a third, appeared in Lucario's supple fur, and the moonlight glanced morbidly off the rivulets of ruby blood on his skin. Meta Knight's laughter erupted straight from his belly, high-pitched, hysterical, and he stepped in closer for the finishing blow -

Lucario's immeasurable aura pulsed without sound, stopping Meta Knight in his tracks, blinding him, so he did not see the basketball-sized Aura Sphere streaming toward him. It struck him head-on, bowling him over, and he collapsed face-up in the grass as Galaxia skittered out of his hand and away across the field. He didn't move.

Ike's eyes were wide, even in the twilight. "Did Lucario just - ?"

"Whip the piss out of Meta Knight?" finished Falco, crossing his arms smugly over his chest as the scouter clicked back into place over his brow. "I'd say so."

Marth leaned around Ike to regard Link, who was smiling down at a heavily-exerted Lucario. "How did you know Lucario was holding back?"

"Easy - Lucario once told me that he grows stronger every time he gets hurt when fighting. He was lulling Meta Knight into a false sense of security, letting him scuff him up and waiting for him to make a mistake. He took damage on purpose."

Ike slapped a hand to his forehead and cursed low. "What a whore... fyi, if I ever get stuck in a match opposite Luca, I'm not wasting any time - I'm going straight for decapitation. It's probably tougher for him to fight back when he's headless."

"Should we check on them? Make sure they're not seriously hurt?" offered Marth, setting the bottle of Schnapps aside and sitting up straighter.

The others were already clambering down the roof and dropping one by one onto the porch below, racing down the stairs.

Lucario had hit his knees again and was swooning forward when Link skidded down to his level and caught him by the shoulders. Blood was seeping from the wound in his chest - it was deeper than it had seemed at first. Link gave him a little shake. "Lucario, stay with me, I'd hate to have to punch you in the face just to keep you awake. Look at me!"

The Pokemon lifted his head with a little effort and opened his eyes a fraction wider. _I'm here. How did I do? _

"You were amazing, Luca, top-fucking-notch. Can you stand?"

Link didn't bother waiting for an answer; with hardly an effort he scooped Lucario up in his arms, one arm circled around his knees, one around his back. At his shoulder, Marth was wrestling out of his tunic. They sidled over to where Meta Knight had fallen - Falco and Kirby were helping him sit up, and the little swordsman shook his head dazedly.

"Your words were true," conceded Meta Knight, allowing Falco to help him to his feet; Ike returned with Galaxia in hand, and Meta Knight sheathed it at his side. "You know your abilities and limitations even better than I know my own. Well done."

_And you._ Lucario was limp in Link's arms; the Hylian laid him down in the grass, and Marth, now naked from the waist up, tied his tunic securely around the Pokemon's narrow chest. Link knelt behind him and Lucario relaxed back against him, laying his head on the Hylian's strong shoulder. _I underestimated you. But I will be better prepared next time._

Ike was staring askance at Marth, his arms crossed, one eyebrow raised in curiosity. "Dude, did you lose weight?"

Marth sighed and gestured back to Lucario and Meta Knight. "Can you focus?"

"Yeah, horn dog, hit on him later," added Falco, suppressing a laugh with difficulty.

"Let's get you two inside," Link interrupted, glaring at the others sternly, and cradling Lucario in his arms again he headed for the staircase leading to the back porch, Kirby supporting Meta Knight behind him.

Link stepped through the glass door leading into the kitchen and veered instantly for the sitting room couch - to find Pit waiting for them, his arms laden with medical supplies. His face was carefully guarded - he had not forgotten their snide remarks from earlier - and Link decided that now was not the time to talk about the angel's foolish decisions. He gently deposited Lucario on the couch and stepped back, watching as Pit removed the crude bandage Marth had offered. Meta Knight collapsed on the carpet with a groan.

"Fourthmeal?" Falco said to Kirby hopefully, and the little pink hero chattered in acquiescence and skipped into the kitchen.

Marth rolled his eyes. "Way to quote Taco Bell commercials, you lame ass. You need to get out more."

"That's funny - go put a shirt on, tinkerbell, before Ike mauls you."

The exiled prince prudently hurried down the hall to his room; Ike drew Ragnell from its back-sheath in one fluid motion, but not nearly as quickly as Falco unholstered his twin laser pistols. They stared one another down, Falco snickering, Ike blushing, until Meta Knight growled: "If you insist on fighting, do it outside, you barbarians. Otherwise sheathe your weapons. You are making a scene."

Falco spun both guns back into their hip-holsters, still smiling; Ike sheathed his sword, scowling. Link rolled his eyes; behind him Lucario hissed in displeasure, prompting them to grant the Pokemon their attentions.

Pit was cleaning the wound with a damp cloth and a bottle of ointment; one of Lucario's paws was clenched around the angel's forearm, his face contorted with discomfort, but Pit seemed not to notice. When he was certain the wound was clean he prompted Lucario to sit up while he dressed it, first with gauze, then with pre-wrap, and lastly a secure bandage. Nobody asked how he knew what he was doing; it was clear he had done this sort of work many times. He inspected the rest of the Pokemon's injuries but did no more than clean them - they were all superficial, thankfully. Link breathed a sigh of relief; Marth returned, wearing an undershirt now, and in the kitchen Kirby informed them that their food was ready by banging a wooden spoon insistently against his favorite bronze pot.

* * *

><p>Link watched Pit change Lucario's bandages in the morning, pleased to see that the wound was already healing nicely. Lucario seemed to be moving with a little more ease now, and assured the Hylian that most of the pain had subsided, for which Link was relieved.<p>

While the other members of the household continued to sleep, Link scraped together a couple of decent omelettes for his and Pit's breakfast; Lucario politely declined. The angel muttered his thanks but ate in silence, and Link chewed his own bland breakfast slowly, watching him. Only when Pit stacked his dishes in the dishwasher and swigged the rest of his orange juice did Link feel compelled to ask, "What time is your qualifying race?"

Pit paused at the doorway, appraising Link for a moment before he answered begrudgingly, "In an hour. Why? Coming to make fun of me?"

"Dunno about the 'make fun of you' part, but I'm going to be there." The stony-faced angel looked surprised at this. "It's really up to you just why I'm there."

"Is it?"

"Yeah. If you pass with flying colors, I'll say I came to congratulate you. If you fail miserably, I'll say I came to console you and take you to a bar to drown your sorrows. And if you meet some sort of untimely demise, I'll say I came to carry your sorry ass to the hospital." Link smiled companionably at Pit as he finished, sipping knowingly at his milk.

Pit obviously didn't appreciate the gesture. "Is that supposed to be funny, dickhead?"

"Call it what it is, pretty boy - I'm there for you regardless of what happens today, so pull your head out of your ass and be straight with me. I know I made fun of you - we all did - but if this is what you really wanna do then you should go out and give it a try. So is this just an act of defiance, or do you honestly think you've got a shot?"

Palutena's emissary lingered for a moment longer in the doorway before returning to the dining room table and taking a seat across from Link; running a hand through his unkempt hair he leaned forward and murmured, "Does it really matter? I'm completely useless on the battlefield these days, and I accept full responsibility for that - it's no one's fault but my own. No amount of training will get that fighting edge back... I need a change of pace. I need to prove that I'm not completely useless."

Link heaved a sigh. "Nobody thinks you're useless, Pit - just stupid. You don't know the first thing about driving in a serious race, and you picked a hell of a circuit to learn in... I read in the paper a few weeks back that Waluigi is having reconstructive facial surgery because he was bumped mid-race and fell into a small pool of lava, where he received third-degree burns." Pit winced. "That's some pretty serious shit, you know. You've only got one face."

"But I WANT to do this," Pit insisted, somewhat uncertainly now.

"Then like I said, if you want to, you should. But racing in the MKGP isn't all glamour - like brawling, it has its repercussions. Look at what happened to Lucario last night. If he'd tried to pull a stunt like that in a real battle, he'd have been sawed in two."

The Hylian vacated his seat, rinsed his glass in the sink, dried it, and replaced it in its cabinet. Pit watched him quietly, looking scared; Link turned back to face him, saw his expression, and laughed bracingly. "Chin up, you gutless piece of shit! You'll get run over for sure if you don't find a little more confidence."

Pit finally laughed and left the table, stretching his ivory wings luxuriously as he did so. "Well, in that case, I'm gonna fly to Mushroom Kingdom and meet the tournament committee, maybe do a few warm-up laps in whatever kart they selected for me... Thanks, Link."

"No problem, kid. I'll be there before you race. Keep a level head and you'll be fine."

The angel flashed him a shaky thumbs-up, and then he was out the door.

Falco found Link hunched over at the kitchen table, his head in his hands, a few minutes later. Yawning and preening a few bent feathers he fished a beer out of the fridge and asked, "What's eating you this time?"

Link looked up, just in time to see the renegade mercenary pop the top off the longnecked bottle, and he muttered glumly, "Isn't nine-thirty a.m. a little too early to start drinking?"

"It's the breakfast of champions, and besides, I don't need a fucking lecture. You're not my mother."

"Thank Jesus for that."

"Hey, I'll have you know that my dear old mother was a stand-up lady. So what's your problem?"

Link dropped his head back into his outstretched hands, muffling his voice when he said, "I never thought I'd see the day when I'd have to watch one of my friends die, but dammit, I think today's the day."

Falco barked out a laugh and kicked his taloned feet up on the table. "I take it that angel boy just left for his qualifying race?"

"If by 'qualifying race' you mean 'funeral', then yeah, Pit just left. It would've been a hell of a lot easier - not to mention less painful - if he'd just asked me to run him through. I would've done it gladly."

"So you're gonna go watch? You sadist." Falco laughed around the bottle's mouthpiece.

The Hylian finally looked up, his face weary, and snatched the bottle away from Falco to take a much-need swig; the avian, for once, didn't object. "I promised him. Ugh, it was awful, I actually gave him a pep talk before he took off... Although if he believed a single word of it he needs to get his head examined. I don't suppose you wanna come with me?"

"I would say 'not a chance', but I can't think of a single excuse to give you for why I can't go." Falco looked irritated with himself. "When's the race?"

"Just under an hour, but we need to leave soon, Pit doesn't even know what track he's racing on..."

Falco slammed the bottle down on the table in surprise; flecks of brown fluid sloshed out over the brim and onto the rosewood surface. Link, who had risen and was now standing at the sink, wrinkled his nose and tossed the mercenary a towel. "He's going into this thing BLIND?! You've got to be shitting me - did he smoke one before he made this decision?! Is there a mini meth lab upstairs that you didn't tell me about?!"

"Hilarious. Don't tell me you do that shit too," Link groaned.

"Nah, only joking, you know I'm just an alcoholic." Falco finished the beer and threw the bottle in the trash, laughing. "Let's hit the road."

They stole the keys to Ike's Jeep (who was still soundly asleep, and was sure not to miss them) and drove the twenty minutes cross-country to the outskirts of Mushroom Kingdom, where the countryside had been altered into a patchwork of different kart courses. They followed a small throng of people through the parking lot and to an admissions booth, where they thought it prudent to ask an attendant to be sure they would find Pit somewhere close.

"We're looking for a friend of ours, who's running a qualifying race today," began Link, glancing all around surreptitiously as he spoke, taking in all the sights.

"What's your friend's name?" asked the tiny attendant, peering up at them from beneath a white- and brown-speckled mushroom hat.

"Pit."

"Doesn't sound familiar... What's he look like?"

Link sighed, exasperated. "He's got brown hair... kinda windblown... he's about this tall - " The Hylian held up a hand to indicated an approximation of Pit's height.

Their toadstool helper was quickly becoming disgruntled. "I think you boys might be lost. I have no idea who you're talking about."

"He's got giant fucking angel wings," Falco cut in impatiently, crossing his arms and tapping one booted foot. "Ring any bells?"

"Oh!" The attendant's eyes widened in recognition. "Him! He's over on course six, just follow the red flags to the risers there..."

So they did as they were instructed and followed the red flags along a wide walkway that snaked around the perimeter of courses one through five, and when they neared a sign that announced their arrival at course six they scaled several flights of stairs into the seating area. The risers lined the home stretch of the racetrack; they sat as high up as the growing crowd would allow, and when they were settled they started looking for Pit. Link pointed him out almost immediately.

The angel had not been given a racing uniform, but, as promised, he now possessed his own racing kart... Link grabbed Falco's arm in horror when he saw it and groaned aloud. The kart was nowhere near the caliber of Pit's fellow racers - it looked several years old, in moderate disrepair, and seemed to have partially rusted.

"They're really against him qualifying," whispered Link, shaking his head sadly. "Poor kid - he's so fucked."

Falco's scouter clicked down over the avian's eye seemingly of its own accord, and leaning forward in his seat Falco studied the kart with a practiced eye. "...Maybe not... It definitely looks like a total piece of shit, but it's got a decent engine that runs like a dream and its guts are in good condition. If he wrecks, it'll be his own damn fault, not his kart's."

"Well that's something, at least." Link was far from reassured; he glanced at Pit's opponents, and nearly swallowed his tongue. "Falco, did you see who he's racing against?!"

"Yeah... Mario, Luigi, Bowser, Peach, Daisy, Yoshi, and five other no-name hopefuls. No wonder you never see anybody new in the Mario Kart Grand Prix - they get killed in the trials."

They were silenced then by an unseen announcer. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Mushroom Kingdom for this morning's premiere qualifying race. The track is Luigi Circuit; all standard rules apply. It's a three-lap race to the finish with various supplementary items interspersed between. To qualify to join the Mario Kart Grand Prix, newcomers must finish in the top six. Spectators - please, no throwing food from the stands, or we will be forced to remove you."

Link looked appalled at this, but Falco merely nodded - it wasn't at all shocking to think that something of that nature had occured before.

"Racers - start your engines, please."

A general roar echoed from the track below the grandstand - were those actually flames spurting from the exhaust pipes of Mario's kart? - and down floated Lakitu to issue the countdown. 3 - Link grabbed Falco's arm again - 2 - Falco snorted through his nose - 1 - Pit tightened his grip on the wheel -

The karts leapt from the line and off like a shot, already jockeying for position. Ignoring Link's death-grip on his arm Falco followed Pit around the first turn (the advanced technology of his scouter made watching the race no trouble at all) to where the first string of power had been strewn.

Bowser cranked the wheel and slammed into Pit's kart, skidding it to the side a good five or six feet, but Pit gritted his teeth and bumped right back. They each stretched out an arm, eyes on the same power box -

Pit touched it first, and a red turtle shell materialized in his outstretched hand. Bowser started to maneuver away - but not before the angel threw the shell with surprising accuracy and caused the Koopa King's kart to stall for several seconds.

"That was fucking amazing," murmured Falco in admiration.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Link whined, his head between his knees.

"Don't puke on my boots, then, or you're buying me new ones."

The contestants were around the second turn by now - Pit was climbing the ranks slowly, but Bowser was coming up fast behind him, now with three green turtle shells revolving around his kart. Wheeling around turn three Bowser took the first of the emerald shells into his hand and launched it - it went spinning on by Pit, missing his kart by inches. Bowser launched the second one, and Pit had to turn hard to avoid it - sending him crashing into the third one, and he spun miserably out of control.

When he crossed the line and entered lap two, he was in ninth.

"Bowser's a dirty whore, he's got it out for Pit," snarled Falco, one hand on the laser pistol holstered on his right hip.

"Remember how they said 'don't throw food' earlier? I'm willing to bet that gunning down racers from the stands is not exactly standard Mario Kart Grand Prix decorum," Link offered breathlessly.

"You're right - I'll wait 'til the race is over, and I'll assassinate him in the parking lot."

Pit snagged a trio of mushrooms from the nearest box and used them to go blazing by places eight and seven, and then he was on Peach's tail and racing for all he was worth. The mushroom princess dropped a trail of bananas behind her, hoping to slip him up, but the angel maneuvered through them like a skier on a downhill slalom course. He reached out for more items -

The box he reached for exploded, stopping him in his tracks. Peach drove away laughing.

"Shit! Stupid rookie," muttered Falco.

At the start of the final lap, Pit was solidly in seventh. The other qualifiers had long since disappeared behind him.

Another trio of mushrooms boosted him smoothly past Peach and into sixth - he flew around turn one - and a strategically-placed banana peel sent the mushroom princess spinning into the grass and out of the running. Around turn two he earned three red turtle shells, and threw the first at Bowser's retreating figure -

King Koopa blocked it with a false power box.

Peach nailed Pit from behind with a well-fired green turtle shell, sending him flipping into the air.

The next several seconds happened in slow motion for Pit, who had very little time to make a decision and act. Mid-flip he fired his second red turtle shell and sent Bowser spinning into a wall, and as he passed him midair he launched the last blindly. It dented Yoshi's bumper and slid his kart right into Bowser's path, barring his way forward - Pit did the only thing left that he could think of.

He clung to the wheel with all his might and spread his wings.

His kart crashed back onto the track, smoke billowing from the exhaust, and he gunned the engine and zipped past his two stalled opponents.

He crossed the line in fourth to finish the race.

"Link!" cried Falco, elbowing the Hylian sharply in the ribs before taking his feet. "Get up! You missed everything, you moron, Pit qualified!"

In an instant Link was on his feet and screaming with the rest of the crowd, and wordlessly they jostled their way to the guardrail and vaulted over it; Pit had unbuckled himself from the kart and was sprinting toward them, red-faced with excitement.

Link punched him in the shoulder, and Falco could think of nothing better to say than "You lucky son of a BITCH!"


	4. The One With All the Porn

Falco and Link, though thrilled with Pit's unexpected victory, didn't stick around long. As it turned out Palutena's emissary was the first newcomer to qualify for the Mario Kart Grand Prix since Princess Daisy of Sarasaland herself - the proceedings promised to be long, drawn-out, and tiresome. They stayed long enough to congratulate Pit and promise him a party of epic proportions when he finally came home, then they made the commute back to Brawlers Mansion.

They had missed lunch, but Kirby was more than happy to whip something up for the both of them; outside, Ike and Marth were sparring at a slower speed than was normal - it appeared as though Ike was trying to teach Marth something. Meta Knight sat alone on the roof, taking in their every move with an almost obsessive interest; Lucario was snoozing in the sun on the back porch, his narrow chest still securely bandaged.

"If I really wanted to suffocate him with a shower curtain, now would be the time to do it," Falco muttered to Link, and the Hylian laughed under his breath.

It was a lazy afternoon, in the grand scheme of things. Link passed on the news that Pit was now a member of the highest-caliber racing league in the world, and as a group they discussed purchasing season tickets so that they could follow the angel's new career. Afternoon blended into evening as Ike, Link, Falco, Marth, and Meta Knight drank slowly through their newest beer supply, and after supper they all lazily dispersed.

Link took the time to sharpen and polish the Master Sword, displeased with himself for neglecting his training over the last few days and preparing to duel Ike the next day. When he was finished he marveled at how quiet the usually lively house was, and left his room to investigate.

He thought he heard voices down the hall in Ike's room - the door was closed - and approaching he knocked. A nervous hush came down in the room beyond, and Ike called gruffly, "Who is it?"

"Uh..." The Hylian was incredibly perplexed. "It's just Link... What's going on?"

"Oh, it's only Link, let him in," murmured a new voice, one he recognized to be Marth's.

Link took a step back from the door, suddenly uneasy. "If you guys are fooling around in there, I'd rather not. I don't do threesomes."

The door cracked open, revealing Ike's disgruntled face; thankfully, he was fully clothed. "We're not having sex, dumbfuck, and you're not coming in unless you bring some booze with you. So make a trip to the kitchen, then come back."

The door slammed in his face.

Curious now, Link backtracked for the kitchen and rummaged momentarily through the refrigerator. When his arms were laden with various bottles he returned to Ike's room, and banged his elbow against the door. Silence came down again within the room, and Ike poked his head out into the hall again; he nodded once in acceptance of what Link had brought, and then ushered him in quickly before shutting, then locking, the door again.

Ike's room was the ultimate in comfort. There was a futon backed up against the far wall, upon which Ike deposited himself; his sword, Ragnell, was propped up against a television stand across from the futon. The TV appeared to be running a movie, but it was paused and the colors blurred together imperceptibly; in the corner adjacent to the futon Marth lounged on a stack of pillows. There were three full-sized bean bags near the pillow mound - Link lowered himself into one of these - and in the spare bit of floor left over there had accumulated several other bottles. Link added his to these before dragging three shot glasses toward himself; the room was dimly lit, and a centerfold poster of Jo Garcia was plastered lovingly on the reverse side of the door.

"She's hot," said Link, smiling appreciatively at the provocative poster, and he started to pour shots for himself and his fellow swordsmen. "What were you guys doing?"

"First tell us what the hell you're mixing," Ike demanded, watching Link slowly pour the contents of a second bottle.

"This? It's called 'Hole in the Head' - it's half a shot of sambuca, half a shot of vodka, and - " The Hylian paused to add a few drops of a bright red liquid, which settled about halfway down each concoction, " - Three drops of tabasco sauce. But nobody gets any until I figure out what the hell's going on in here."

Ike heaved a pained sigh and unpaused the video. Link swallowed past the lump in his throat as the adult movie continued to play. "Ah. I see. And what are we watching?"

"_Pirates_. Now pass out the shots," said Ike.

Link handed them their tiny glasses, and taking his Marth said, "But keep your pants on, this is a strictly visual experience. And audio, I suppose."

"Yeah, this isn't a hands-on adventure. Do that on your own time." Ike threw back his shot and smacked his lips. "That's not bad, actually."

Marth, conversely, swallowed his shot and was instantly red-faced and coughing. "Oh my... JESUS! What the HELL - "

Link just laughed and drank his down without a single complaint. They watched the movie in content silence.

A knock sounded on the door. Ike fumbled with the remote and paused the video again; Link and Marth sucked in ragged breaths, trying to slow their heartbeats. "What do you want?!"

_Your rudeness is unnecessary; I heard voices. That, and Pit hasn't arrived, and I need my bandages changed._

The three swordsmen exchanged wide-eyed glances; no one could answer Lucario right away. Ike at last cleared his throat and called back, "You bring the booze, you can come in. But you'd better be alone!"

They heard the Pokemon pad back down the hallway, not expecting him to return (due to his aversion to alcohol); they were all shocked speechless, therefore, when not two minutes later another soft knock sounded on the wood of the door, and Ike bounded to answer it.

Lucario stepped in looking perfectly confused before adding a pair of bottles to the ten or so already present in Ike's room. Link held out his hands for the various bandages the Pokemon also carried, and Lucario sank into the bean bag in front of him, glancing from one swordsman to the next and wordlessly awaiting an explanation.

Marth heaved a sigh and said simply, "We're watching porn."

Ike just shrugged and unpaused the movie again. "Keep your hands where we can see 'em - I'm not cleaning up after you."

_Hilarious._ Lucario held his arms up and away from his sides; Link started carefully peeling the tape away from his skin. _Believe it or not, I've seen this already._

Link's fingers faltered on the tape in surprise. "You have?!"

_What are you insinuating? I am no less a man than any of you. Ah, no wonder I couldn't find the vodka in the fridge, someone brought it already -_

Ignoring their incredulous gazes Lucario leaned forward and collected their shot glasses, and unstoppering a bottle of some electric-blue drink he began meticulously pouring. _I will share one drink with the three of you, and this is one of the only recipes I know - it's called 'Cough Syrup'; blue curacao liqueur, green creme de menthe, and vodka. Do enjoy it._

He passed out the shots and settled back into his bean bag chair, allowing Link to strip the rest of the bandages away. When his chest was bare he lay back, allowing the Hylian to inspect the wound.

"I don't see any problems," Link assured him, studying the scabbed-over gash that Galaxia had left behind. "Definitely no infection, and if we treat it on a daily basis it shouldn't even scar. You're lucky." He paused, his attentions devoted to the video for several long seconds, before dipping his fingers into a jar of healing salve and spreading it carefully across Lucario's chest.

Their eyes met. Link was sure his pupils were dialated. The suggestive sounds of the movie filled their ears.

"Cheers," said Ike, shattering the moment, and they fumbled with their shot glasses and drank the contents down together.

"Since when do you drink, Luca?" Marth queried, tossing the tiny glass toward the various bottles with a clink as it struck. "I was under the impression that that wasn't a part of your lifestyle."

_It isn't. But I am in a good place, with good company._ Lucario relaxed and closed his eyes; Link concentrated on spreading the salve evenly. He wiped his hand on a towel when the wound was covered in paste and eased the Pokemon into a sitting position, then began carefully encircling his chest with gauze. _The drink is not so bad, besides._

Marth chuckled and lay back against his pillow mound. "Falco might succeed in turning you into an alcoholic if you're not careful."

"What I wanna know," interrupted Ike, and as they regarded him they noticed a disgruntled crease in his brow as he leaned forward on the futon, "is how chicks bend that way."

He pointed. They focused on the softly-playing pornography, their hearts beating varying degrees of excitement, before Link said, "I'd bet the rest of the booze in the fridge that they've got no bones in their legs. At all."

"It's a prerequisite to becoming a porn star," agreed Marth with a muffled chuckle. "You've got to be willing to have every bone below your pelvis surgically removed."

Ike waved away their jibes, impatient. "Nah, I mean, how come chicks can bend in freaky ways that only rubber bands can, but guys can't?"

The silence did not last long. Ike's roundabout confession was something they had all already assumed in the backs of their minds; it didn't change who he was.

"Probably because guys like the bones in their legs?" snorted Marth, clutching his stomach in his hysteria.

"This blows. It's been almost two weeks since I got laid - I'm starting to get irritable."

There was a general uproar of incredible vehemence when Ike said these words; Marth threw an empty bottle Ike's way, cursing at the top of his lungs, Link leapt to his feet in rage, and Lucario's eyes glittered with malice. Ike dodged the bottle and let it explode against the wall with chagrin. "Ah - some of us not getting any action, boys? How long has it been for YOU, prince?"

Marth slumped back, his shoulders hunched, looking very small as he shrank against the pillows. He mumbled something incomprehensible beneath his breath, his teeth gritted, but none of them could decipher it.

"Didn't catch that, prince, sorry," said Ike, his voice smug and singsong.

"My last TIME," Marth hissed, his voice like poison, "was with YOU."

"And HOW long ago was that?" Ike was clearly enjoying himself.

Marth's hands, clenched into fists, shook with the difficulty of restraining his fury. "Almost four months, you unimaginable bastard."

Exchanging a glance, Link and Lucario wordlessly agreed that this revelation was also not in the least surprising. Ike and Marth were rather open about their often questionable relationship. On the futon the stockier swordsman was reveling in his superiority with a wicked smile and a swig of beer; Marth's face was rapidly turning the color of tomato juice.

"So basically what he's trying to tell you is that he can get chicks to bend in anatomy-defying ways, but not you," Link pointed out, trimming the gauze and continuing with the pre-wrap. "You must be unbelievably unsatisfying in the sack."

The exiled prince rounded on him, clearly wounded by the joke, and icily spat the question that Link had been desperately hoping to avoid: "Oh, am I? How long has it been since YOU got lucky, then?!"

Link concentrated on snipping the pre-wrap and then keeping the surgical tape even and bump-free as he applied it. When he had finished he watched Lucario test its flexibility. "Did I do okay?"

_Very well, thank you._ Lucario seemed to sense the Hylian's answer somehow and seemed almost as determined to divert their attentions.

It didn't work. Ike leaned forward with interest. "How long, Link?"

Link was trapped. He kept his eyes focused on the still-playing adult movie, studying the curve of one of the women's hips with far too much interest, before finally admitting, "Oh, about twenty-four years."

Marth's jaw fell open so far that it almost hit the floor; Ike dropped his half-empty brew, oblivious as its contents sloshed out all over the carpet. Lucario said nothing. Link's face remained perfectly composed despite all these reactions. There was silence for the span of ten heartbeats.

"You mean to tell me that, despite all the time you spend with a beautiful woman like Princess Zelda, you're STILL a virgin?!" Ike exploded, and as he said this he finally noticed his beer dripping on the carpet. He snatched up the towel Link had used earlier and dabbed at the mess with little real interest. "Dude - that's so sad."

"What about that other chick? The REALLY hot one? What was her name?" Marth considered for a moment. "Midna? You didn't nail her either?"

Link's teeth clenched together defensively. "She was in her true form for about thirty seconds before she disappeared. I wasn't about to fuck a midget. I'm not that desperate."

Something bumped against his hand; Lucario was holding out a shot of Cough Syrup. The Hylian threw it back gratefully while the other two swordsmen laughed at his expense.

"I don't believe this," marveled Ike, at last lounging back against the upright portion of the futon. "The Hero of Time - not getting any. You're gonna die an unfulfilled old man whose true potential was never realized."

_Perhaps that's incredibly noble of him,_ Lucario broke in tersely; Link's eyebrows shot up in surprise as he turned to regard his unlikely defender. _He's the only hero I know who's completely dedicated his life to protecting the well-being and freedom of others. I personally find that reputable. Valorous._

Marth snickered. "Let me guess - you're a virgin too."

_Happily,_ the Pokemon admitted, seeming not in the least bit ashamed.

"How could anyone be thrilled to death that nobody wants to jump their bones?" scoffed Ike, shaking his head as though disappointed. "Next you'll tell me you had an opportunity once but you passed it up."

_I did, as a matter of fact._ Lucario surprised them all by swallowing a shot of pure vodka, immediately chasing it down with a gulp of fruit punch.

Ike and Marth responded to this confession with a fresh gale of laughter; Link slumped further down into his bean bag, fuming, as Lucario lay back against the lumpy bag in front of him. Gradually the laughter quieted and their attentions returned to the video, which was growing steamier by the second.

_I must admit, it's somehow refreshing to find someone that shares this quality._

Link blinked in surprise at hearing Lucario's voice, mostly because it sounded quite different; most of the time it echoed through his mind, clear as a bell and rich as velvet, but this time it was with the consistency of a whisper, like a fine mist softly blanketing the earth. He looked around - Ike and Marth were watching the movie with avid interest as though they hadn't heard a word.

_If you direct your thoughts at me, I will hear them,_ Lucario's shadowy whisper floated through his mind.

It seemed harmless enough, so the Hylian gave it a try_. What's refreshing?_ he thought.

_The idea that you and I are both... untainted. Here all this time I thought I was the only one._

_Can't they hear you?_ Link thought back, engrossed now.

_Another trait I discovered about my aura, one I discovered completely on accident - I can focus my telepathy toward a single being so that only the ones I choose hear me speak. If the subject is one I am familiar with, I can also attune to their thoughts and hear every word they think. A useful tool._

Link was impressed. _You're stronger than they realize if you can do things like that._

_I wouldn't say that... I am just adept at discovering things about myself._ The movie reflected in Lucario's eyes, but they were glossed over; he was clearly not paying attention anymore. _I find it difficult to believe that Princess Zelda has never expressed any sexual interest in you, Link._

_I think she's interested, and I know I am, but I swore to myself that I'd never put her in a position that might compromise her virtue._ It was so easy to open up to Lucario. _Until she expresses to me personally what she wants, nothing will happen. I can wait._

_You are admirable._ There was silence for several minutes; Link assumed the private conversation was at an end, and was slowly allowing his attention to drift back into the movie, when Lucario added, _Does Zelda hold all your interest, then?_

What a strange question - Link wasn't at all sure how to answer it. He pondered this for several minutes before admitting, _I have no claim to her, so I guess I'd be open to outside experiences._

There was a laugh in Lucario's telepathic whisper. _Experiences akin to Ike and Marth's?_

Link's response was instinctual, unexpected, and honest. _I've thought about it once or twice._

_Once or twice this evening?_

An image flashed suddenly through the Hylian's mind - the moment when, perhaps an hour ago, he had been applying the healing salve to Lucario's wound and their eyes had met. All the blood drained out of Link's face and seemed to pool in his stomach, a strange but not uncomfortable sensation, and he was suddenly glad that Lucario was lounging in front of him and could not see his face. In his embarrassment he subconsciously decided to play coy. _Maybe._

Lucario, of course, wasn't fooled; his laughter echoed in Link's mind, a pleasant wind chime sound. _I see. Well then, maybe I have thought about it once or twice as well._

Link started, off-balance by the reply. Normally Lucario wasn't quite so forward, prefering instead to be enigmatic. _Have you?_

_Maybe._ The laughter was absent from Lucario's voice now, replaced by an edge of uncertainty. _Does that bother you?_

The Hylian considered how such a declaration made him feel; oddly he was neither repulsed nor angry - he felt a little nervous energy, an unexplainable excitement, and something else he wasn't sure he could name that made the blood shooting through his veins catch fire...

_No, actually. What does that mean?_

Lucario sighed. _I'm not sure._

A woman's voice screamed passionately in the video, reclaiming their attentions; Ike shifted on the futon and said, "Well, I'm bushed, guys. I think I'm gonna call it a night. Link - don't forget we're sparring tomorrow. Goodnight."

His eyes were boring pointedly into Marth's as he said this. Link jolted to his feet, suddenly uncomfortable, with the feeling that he should disappear from this room as soon as physically possible. Lucario rose more fluidly, but with no less enthusiasm to exit. Neither of them were all that shocked when they stepped into the hallway and Marth did not join them; they retreated down the hall together, pausing on the other side of Link's room.

"Doesn't sound like Pit's coming home anytime soon," Link observed, hoping that their conversation had not spawned an awkwardness between them.

Lucario was serene. _So it would seem. Goodnight, Link. Thank you for helping me with my bandages._

Soundlessly the Pokemon disappeared down the shadowy hallway, his footfalls so balanced and quiet that Link didn't even hear him pad downstairs to the basement. He lingered in the hallway for a moment longer, gazing after the long-departed Lucario with one hand resting on his own doorknob, then headed inside.

His mind was racing with unanswered questions and half-formed scenarios, buzzing so loudly that sleep became impossible. Link wasted an entire forty-five minutes staring at the inside of his door in the darkness, furiously deliberating, before at last he cursed beneath his breath and clambered back to his feet. His curiosity claimed him - he left his room and tread cautiously downstairs.

It was easier to navigate since his eyes had long since adjusted the the darkness, so keeping his steps as light as he could manage he tiptoed past Meta Knight's door and found himself standing only a few feet away from the room where Lucario dwelt. He had arrived all too soon - he was still wrestling with the idea of such an encounter within the recesses of his mind and was no closer to making a decision than he had been before.

It wasn't until his fingertips came in contact with the cool bronze of the doorknob that he jolted back to his senses. What was he doing? He wasn't at all prone to random homosexual tendencies. He and Lucario had shared the field of battle more than once, it was true, but did that really mean that they knew one another? And what did any of that matter when they were two separate species? Wasn't it wrong for him to feel this way? To consider the possibility at all?

Link's hand dropped from the doorknob and hung limply at his side; he frowned at the smooth mahogany wood for a moment or two longer before willing his body to turn around and retrace his steps, slower this time, more unwilling as he returned to his room.

Lucario sat silently on the other side of his door, using the power of his aura to watch Link wrestle within himself. He wasn't at all surprised when the Hylian at last drew away, but that didn't stop him from being the tiniest bit disappointed.

* * *

><p>The next day started much earlier than the previous one had. Link awakened from a restless, unfulfilling sleep to find Marth, Meta Knight, and Pit seated around the kitchen table, while Kirby bustled (happy as always) in the kitchen.<p>

"You look like hell," Marth greeted him cheerfully, sliding a mug of still-steaming coffee across the table and into Link's grateful grasp.

"It was a... rough night," Link hedged, and he sipped the coffee carefully before adding an appropriate amount of cream and sugar. Lucario was still on his mind, and it was the scenario he had almost divulged in that had kept him from sleep most of the night. He wasn't ready to talk about it with anyone yet. Taking note of Marth's easy smile he added, "You look like a pregnant woman, Marth, you're fucking GLOWING."

Marth's answering smile took in his ears; the light reflecting off his perfect teeth blinded them. "Ike is still asleep. My God! That's not what kept you up, is it?"

"Yes, I heard everything," Link grumbled, with an expression that suggested he wanted to tear off his own ears. "No, it wasn't why I didn't sleep. Pit, when did you get home?"

"Around four this morning. I had some paperwork to fill out, and they dragged me to every racetrack that the MKGP tournament committee has certified... It was a long day." Pit was on his third cup of coffee already. "What's the plan for today?"

"Well, whenever Ike gets his lazy ass up, we have a duel to be getting on with." Link paused as Kirby hurried over to the table, a mountain of scrambled eggs and sausage links on a bronze serving platter. "We said we'd fight before it got too hot... I'm pretty sure that no matter when we do this, he'll murder me."

"Yeah, don't be surprised if we make bets on this - " Marth started to say, but then several things happened at once.

From the unused wing down the hall came the sound of a window breaking; Link and Marth leapt to their feet, weaponless, but Meta Knight kicked away from the table and drew Galaxia from its scabbard in defense and Kirby brandished a kitchen knife at the noise. For a moment no one moved - the only sound was their slightly-quickened breathing - and then something about the size of a half-dollar rolled across the kitchen floor and collided with Link's booted foot.

An active detonator.

"Everybody SCATTER!" shrieked Link, and as Marth scooped Kirby up into his arms and Pit jerked Meta Knight in the direction of the sitting room the Hylian seized the ticking device in one hand and dashed for the back porch. The ticking grew louder, increased in tempo, as Link fumbled with the dead-bolt on the door leading to the deck; flinging the door open he hurtled outside, drew his arm back, and launched the tiny bomb as far away from the mansion as he could.

Two more seconds passed, and then the lake exploded. Link was just thankful that the house - and more importantly, his friends - had survived the blast. Heart hammering wildly against his ribs he retreated back inside to investigate.

He stopped dead in his tracks when he rounded the corner leading from the kitchen to the sitting room.

The scene before him was remiscent of an old-style standoff. The culprit stood facing the room at large, a laser revolver in each hand, each pointed at a different target. The left-hand gun was aimed directly at Marth's chest and he stood with his empty hands out wide, a gesture of surrender; Kirby cowered behind his legs. The revolver in their assailant's right hand had Pit in its sights, who was similarly just as weaponless as Marth; Meta Knight crouched, ready to spring, on the angel's heels. In the whole room, Meta Knight was the only ally armed - he had one hand on Galaxia's pommel, prepared to draw in an instant.

The scouter over the culprit's eye clicked into place over his brow, and Wolf O'Donnell narrowed his eyes in Meta Knight's direction. "Hand off the sword, short shit, or your friend here takes one in the heart. Unstrap it - SLOWLY - and toss it over to me."

Meta Knight looked unwilling to surrender his beloved sword - Link couldn't blame him - but he was even more unwilling to cause Pit any harm. With measured, deliberate movements he unstrapped Galaxia and threw it, belt, sheath, and all, at Wolf's feet. The mercenary's lips curled up into a smirk.

"Thank you very much." He turned his smug gaze Link's way, who held up his hands immediately; he wasn't about to instigate any trouble that would convince Wolf to hurt anyone. "Good to see you, Link, it's been a long time. Sorry to just barge in, but I'm in a little hurry, so why don't you just spare me any heroics you might have in store and give me what I want? I want McCloud. I know he's here. So don't bother protecting him."

Link's mind raced, but his body, in contrast, moved not a muscle. "Easy, O'Donnell. Fox really isn't here. I haven't seen him since the fall of the Subspace Army."

A muscle in Wolf's jaw twitched, causing the others to tense anxiously. "You're a lying sack of shit. You actually expect me to believe that? Nothing doing. Cough him up or I turn you and your friends into swiss cheese." As he finished he adjusted the gun in his left hand, sighting Link's forehead down the barrel, and the right-hand blaster dipped lower to regard an infuriated Meta Knight.

There was nothing Link could say that would make Wolf see reason and he knew it, but at that precise moment he was saved from making any immediate decision. Slinking up the stairs on his right from the basement was Lucario, and descending the staircase on the left, gun leading, came Falco - both were out of Wolf's line of sight for the moment. Link worked to keep his eyes focused directly on Wolf and inwardly prayed that the others were doing the same.

Lucario tensed, then sprang forward from the shadows.

Falco aimed and cracked off a single shot.

Wolf fired once with each pistol.

It was instantaneous. The bolt of laser energy from Falco's pistol scorched into the back of Wolf's right hand, sending one of his weapons spinning into the air - the shot went awry, burning a neat little hole in the ceiling. The other laser bullet was on the mark as it lanced straight for Link's forehead -

Lucario plowed into Link from the front, knocking him to the ground, and the bolt zipped past the falling pair and sizzled through the wall behind them. Wolf readjusted his aim but Falco was quicker to the trigger - his second shot glanced off the barrel of Wolf's remaining weapon, sending it spinning from the mercenary's hand.

Meta Knight rolled around Pit's legs, took up Galaxia, and unsheathed it in barely half a second; Marth put out one hand and caught one of the falling pistols, and Lucario, still pinning Link to the floor beneath him, stretched out his arm and snagged the other in midair.

Three guns and a sword pointed simultaneously at various vital points of Wolf's body - forehead, heart, liver, and groin - and the mercenary gritted his teeth and scowled viciously at them.

"Apparently we're not safe in our own home anymore," Link told his friends, his voice dripping with irritation. "I suggest we all start carrying our weapons around at all times so we can better defend ourselves from crackpots who chuck detonators through the windows. And I told you, O'Donnell - Fox isn't fucking here. Understand?"

Wolf's eyes flashed, wishing them all nothing but ill, but he was no fool; he knew he had been foiled. "Then I demand to stay here until he shows up. We have... business."

The others exchanged glances of doubt and concern - could Wolf be trusted to live among them?

The mercenary seemed to guess their thoughts and heaved a tragic sigh. "Oh, keep my goddamn guns if you want. It's McCloud I'm after, not any of you. Don't even try and chase me off, either, 'cause I'm not leaving."

"You're paying for the window you broke," Pit said matter-of-factly, goading a much-needed chuckle from the others. Even Wolf's mouth twitched a little in amusement. "And the hole in the ceiling. AND the hole in the wall."

"Fine, fine, whatever the hell you want. I'll be good." The tension eased out of Wolf's body.

The others relaxed at once; Meta Knight regretfully sheathed his sword and Marth turned the blaster over to Falco. Lucario seemed to remember just where he had landed and he scrambled to his feet, offering Link a hand up. The Hylian accepted it gratefully. Their eyes met again.

"Thank you," Link mumbled; his heart beat sporadically, and he did not immediately release Lucario's paw as he should have.

_You are most welcome._ Lucario pulled away and dropped his eyes to the floor at once, almost embarrassed, and moved to return the other gun to Falco.

That was when, yawning and rubbing his eyes with one hand, Ike stumbled around the corner and into the sitting room, clad only in a pair of boxers with his beloved sword trailing at his side to say, "What's all the fucking noise? Did I miss something? I'll kill 'em, I swear... Did you know your window's broken, Link?"


	5. The One Where They Play Rock Band

The next several days passed uneventfully (if the atmosphere within Brawlers Mansion could ever be described as uneventful). Wolf proved to be just as harmless as the other tenants of the house; he ate anything Kirby put in front of him, he drank almost as much as Ike (a feat within itself), and he made sarcastic, rude jokes. So all in all he fit in well - better than the others had expected, at least.

The window Wolf had broken in order to enter the house was promptly repaired the next day, as were the two laser bullet holes sustained in the sitting room. Pit's racing career was mediocre at best (he placed anywhere from 9th to 4th most of the time), but he always assured them that he just needed to get the hang of things. He was always very optimistic.

Things between Link and Lucario were... tenuous. It was a word that Link had cooked up in his mind to describe what was occurring, and it seemed to fit the situation quite well; Link continued to feel intensely guilty in the Pokemon's presence, made worse by the fact that Lucario was nothing but cordial and pleasant to him every time they exchanged words. It was as though nothing had happened at all - which, Link often remembered with a fresh twinge of self-loathing, nothing had.

On the morning three days after Wolf's arrival Link was staring down at his toast, stomach churning unhappily, when Falco came downstairs to join the others for breakfast; Pit had just left for the day and wouldn't be back anytime soon. The avian accepted a plate from a bouyant Kirby and sat in the chair that had been Marth's the moment the exiled prince vacated it to get a juice refill.

Marth eyed the back of Falco's head with distaste. "Have you no manners?"

"Nope, I sure don't, and if you hope to survive here you'll forget what the word 'manners' means." Falco smothered his pancakes with maple syrup; Ike and Wolf snickered into their eggs. "Hey, Lucario, I wanted to talk to you about something, actually."

Lucario was sitting at the end of the table, gazing out the window at the sun glittering on the lake; he turned his head to regard Falco, his eyes wide with surprise. _Oh?_

"Yeah." Falco paused to take a swig of coffee, then he leaned across the table looking confused. "I got the most fucked-up phonecall last night from this guy named Toshi - he works at the hottest night club in town. I ran into him the other day when Wolf and I were on our way out of a hookah lounge - "

"Thought we were keepin' that a secret, bird," Wolf cut in with a snarl.

"Oh, can it, dog, thanks to Ike and Marth none of us have any secrets anymore." Ike acted as though he hadn't heard a single word of Falco's retort; Marth choked on his grapefruit juice. "Anyway, we got to talking and he asked who I was living with for the summer, and when I got to your name he got all excited and told me an interesting story about you that I'd honestly never heard - it was so off the wall that I was positive we were talking about two different guys."

Lucario's eyes had narrowed into dangerous slits; everyone else at the table scooted their chairs back a few inches, ready for the explosion. _And what lies did this man Toshi tell you?_

Falco took another swig of coffee and stacked his feet up on the table; Meta Knight dragged his plate away in disgust. "Oh, it wasn't anything bad - but I'm sure it was a lie. He told me you used to mix and play synth at a bar across the state."

Everyone but Lucario exploded into hysterics at this; even Kirby, bouncing around with a tray of biscuits, dropped the platter in shock and rolled around on the floor as he laughed, covered with bits of bread. Ike was pounding his fist on the table and Marth was clinging to the handle of the fridge to keep himself upright; Link wiped a tear from his eye. Lucario's expression did not change throughout the entire ordeal.

"I told Toshi he was crazy and he must have been thinking of somebody else," Falco continued, after taking a moment to collect himself, "but he called here last night looking for you. I was half-asleep already, or I would've passed on the message sooner."

_And what did he want, exactly?_ Lucario's voice in their minds was sharp with irritation. Falco cut to the chase.

"He tends bar at The Shadow - he says if you're interested, they're looking for a techno DJ."

Lucario picked up a sliver of bacon and nibbled on it thoughtfully for a moment; the others were certain he was about to assure them that the entire thing was a misunderstanding. Then he flicked the fatty remnants of bacon back onto his plate and said, _I don't have any of my equipment anymore. I sold it three summers ago, when I was finished mixing at La Vida. Unless your acquaintance Toshi has a full soundboard at his disposal, I am poorly equipped to accept this job._

"You're not actually admitting to these ridiculous claims?!" Meta Knight asked him, whirling in his seat to face the Pokemon across from him.

_Of course I am. Being a creature that cannot verbally speak I have very heightened other senses - for example, I have impeccable hearing. It was one of the things that got me into La Vida; it was open DJ night, and a friend of mine convinced me to try. Music comes very naturally to me, and I have always loved techno._

Marth sat down heavily in between Ike and Link, shaking his head as though trying to rid it of something unpleasant. "This is the most ludicrous thing I've ever heard... you used to be a techno DJ?"

"Are you sure this wasn't just some fucked-up dream you had once?" pressed Wolf, looking at Lucario as though he were an escaped mental patient. "Did you get a bad hit of acid?"

_I filled the dance floor at La Vida for three and a half months three years ago. Until the day I left, that club was incredibly popular._ Lucario turned his gaze back to Falco. _If you speak to Toshi again, ask him what equipment I will have to work with. Find me the location of this bar, The Shadow. Discuss my pay. When you have those answers for me, I will have an answer for your friend Toshi._

It was the first time Link had found the courage to speak directly to Lucario all morning when he said, "You're really considering this?"

_Why not? This is something I used to truly enjoy. It might be worth my while to invest a little more time in it._

They decided to let the subject drop then, mostly because it was too mind-boggling to consider for more than half a minute. Link addressed the group at large. "Okay, I think we ought to put our new MKGP season tickets to good use today - Pit's gonna need to see some friendly faces in that crowd of vultures."

"Not to mention a few guys to carry the stretcher he's gonna be on," added Ike remorselessly.

Wolf looked up from his french toast. "We missin' something here?"

Link looked around; Lucario and Falco seemed nonplussed, but Marth, Meta Knight, and Kirby looked just as lost as Wolf seemed to be, so he resolved to explain. "Pit's racing in Bowser's Castle today. We're pretty sure it's gonna be a very bloody massacre."

"I'm pretty sure what I said was 'that kid's gonna die in some way nobody even thought possible'," Ike corrected. The prospect did not seem unappealing to him - quite the contrary, he looked deeply amused.

"Anyway," Link started again, shooting Ike a glowering look of disapproval, "he'll need all the help he can get - seeing us in the crowd might bolster his resolve. I already talked Ike into going; anybody else up for it? The race is at noon."

"Count me out," Wolf put in at once, and Meta Knight and Lucario nodded in agreement. "I already made plans for the day."

Link was instantly suspicious. "What kind of plans?"

"Plans that don't have a damn thing to do with you, kid. Don't forget - I'm here for McCloud. I fixed your window, I injected plaster into your ceiling and wall - I don't owe you shit. So stay outta my way, capiche?"

"Wolf, you're a dickhead, give it a rest." Falco rolled his eyes.

"Carpet-muncher."

"Cocksucker."

"Anus-licker."

_Are you two quite through?_ sighed Lucario, looked harrassed, and the two mercenaries fell silent.

Kirby waved his little pink arm enthusiastically and chirruped, signaling his will to go, and Falco shrugged his shoulders and said, "I guess I could make an appearance. What about you, Marthy-boy?"

The prince made a show of yawning and stretching when he said, "I had a rough night, I need to catch up on my sleep, so thanks but no thanks."

Ike snorted through his nose and smeared jelly on a biscuit. "Suck it up, prince, I went easy on you."

"You call that EASY?!" wailed Marth tragically. "SIX TIMES?!"

This line of conversation caused the others to disperse in various directions at the speed of light.

Link resigned himself to his room, in no mood to entertain anyone, and vowed to stay hidden until it was time to depart for Pit's race. He pulled the shades closed, blocking out the worst of the rising sun, and crashed face-down on his unmade bed, and that was how Falco found him an hour later.

"What's eating you, bud?" said Falco softly, letting himself in without knocking, and he shut the door closed quietly behind him.

The Hylian barely raised his head to regard his guest; his hair was disheveled and fell comically in his eyes. "Eating me? Nothing. Why?"

Falco sat on the edge of the mattress, near Link's head, and stifled a laugh. "You can lie to them all you want, but I know you better than most. Something's bugging you. So spill your guts."

"Nothing's bothering me." The uncertainty with which Link said this and the way his eyes stayed glued to the carpet told Falco otherwise.

"Link, I've known you for a long time. You're the happiest, most optimistic, most obnoxiously nice guy I know. It doesn't take a fucking rocket scientist to tell when you're down in the dumps. So why don't you quit being tough and be straight with me? Even if I can't help, there's always the chance that just getting it off your chest will make you feel better."

Stubborn, persistent Falco... Link doubted he could hide his worries for much longer around the quick-witted mercenary, and there were definitely worse people he could confide in. At least he could trust Falco to keep this knowledge to himself. He shifted into a sitting position, combing his tousled hair out of his eyes with his fingertips, and began shyly, "You ever been... attracted... to someone you shouldn't be?"

Falco smiled knowingly. "What, you mean guys? Yep. More than once. It gets lonely out in space. You can't afford to pick and choose if you wanna keep your sanity."

The light-hearted confidence with which Falco said this gave Link a little more courage. Maybe it was a good idea to be honest with him. "So you've... been there."

"If by 'been there' you actually mean 'done it with dudes' then yeah, I've been there." Falco winked. "These are modern times, bud - homosexual relationships aren't as terrible as they used to be."

The vice around Link's chest seemed to loosen a little, and he breathed easier at this revelation. "I'm kind of having a problem along those lines. And this has never happened to me before, so I don't really know what to do about it."

"I'm gonna go out on a limb and assume that it's somebody in this house?" the avian pressed.

Link nodded but did not say more.

"Okay." Falco thought it through. "I think I can safely eliminate Kirby and Meta Knight, just 'cause I don't think you'd go there. And Ike and Marth are most definitely out, 'cause they're a little busy with each other these days - not to mention Ike would probably give you an STD. And you were acting funny before Wolf got here, so it can't be him, and you wouldn't be having this conversation with me at all if it was me you were obsessing over... That leaves Pit, and Lucario."

For a moment Link was stunned by Falco's unnerving attention to detail - was he always this observant? The avian's eyes studied his face closely, as though scouring the skin for a clue, and then finally he said, "Yeah... I can see where you'd find him appealing."

"Who?"

Falco rolled his eyes and sighed impatiently. "Lucario."

"How did you - ?"

"Just a hunch. Pit is too girly for you, besides - incredibly high maintenance. Cries a lot. I can't see you being attracted to that." Falco cracked a smile, pleased when Link's lips twitched in a similar manner, and said, "Lucario's more your type. He has a sort of pull to him... like a magnet. He triggers something in people like you."

Link bristled at this. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

"Easy, bitchcakes, don't be so damn touchy. You're intrigued by the idea of the unknown. Lucario has that sort of mystique. Like you could be with him for years and still never know a single thing about him." Falco leaned back against the wall, his brow furrowed as he considered. "This IS a tricky situation. Anything happen between you two?"

"No." Link was amazed at the level of regret in his tone. "We had a brief but pretty loaded discussion about it a few nights ago, and I almost went down to see him, but I chickened out at the last minute and went to sleep instead. Been kicking myself for it ever since. And call me crazy, but I think somehow he knows I ditched him."

Falco patted Link sympathetically on the shoulder. "What are you looking for here with Lucario? Is this a question of a deep, meaningful relationship, or are you just looking to get laid?"

It was Link's turn to frown. "I'm not even sure I know the answer to that. Though I'm pretty sure sex is out of the question."

"Sucks being attracted to a member of a different species, doesn't it?" The way Falco said this made Link certain that the avian had experienced this at some point too. "You're right, that probably is impossible. But that doesn't mean you can't have anything at all. Maybe all you really need is to have someone in your life. You know, like a comfort item or something."

Link blinked confusedly. "I'm not a two-year-old, and Lucario is not a baby blanket."

Falco punched Link in the shoulder; Link was certain it would bruise. "You know what I mean, stubborn-ass! I mean that sometimes it's just nice to have someone. Think about it. Just because he's a man, AND he's a Pokemon... well, I see no reason why you SHOULDN'T be with him, myself. Take Ike and Marth, for example. You and I both know that Ike is a raging alcoholic who's good for nothing but swinging a sword around and Marth is a notorious drama queen - but they make each other happy, in a very weird way, so I guess that's all that matters, isn't it?"

Link had never once in his entire life heard Falco talk like this. It was both unnerving and uplifting at the same time.

"That's what it boils down to - make yourself happy. So if Lucario makes you happy... you should be with him, shouldn't you?" Falco stole a glance at his watch. "Now if you're done crying, it's time for us to split and head to the MKGP. So take off your dress and end this little tea party."

It was Link's turn to punch, but Falco merely danced out of the way with a mocking laugh.

* * *

><p>Ike, Link, Falco, and Kirby wended their way into town in Ike's beat-up Jeep, chatting idly about Pit's upcoming race and enjoying the lazy feeling of lounging in the sun. Link tuned himself out of the conversation almost at once, watching Kirby bounce excitedly beside him in the backseat and partially listening to Falco and Ike bicker in the front seat about whether or not Pit would survive another day. He felt lighter somehow, more at peace than he had for three days, and he vowed that if he caught Falco alone again he'd thank him for making him talk. He hadn't yet decided exactly what to do where Lucario was concerned, but whatever decision he made now would be made with a level head.<p>

The Bowser's Castle course was a closed-off racetrack; only people with season tickets, VIP vouchers, or some other means of pre-determined admittance were allowed inside at all. An usher showed them carefully to the grandstand and when they took their seats they all groaned aloud.

Pit had truly been given an impossible task. The course started just north of a field of geysers that sporadically erupted lava; it spun through a steep drop and catapulted racers into a red-carpeted hallway before it twisted out of sight. Falco's scouter clicked down over his eye at once, and he gave the others a run-down.

"Let's see... there's a few Thwomps; some sections of the castle have no guardrails, and the whole thing is surrounded by lava... Yikes, holy shit, there's a half-pipe in the center that's got lava pits all over, and an animated Bowser statue that spews fireballs... More Thwomps... And then they make a jump through a windmill of fireballs and race down that hill - " He drew their attention back the other way, where the hill twisted down and straight through the field of lava-spewing geysers. "This is suicide! What the hell is Pit thinking?!"

"Probably something along the lines of 'tell my mother I love her, I'm going to meet Palutena'," muttered Link under his breath.

Kirby huddled into Ike's chest, whimpering, and the stockier swordsman put his arms around the little creature before saying, "I hope he gets paid a shitload of money to needlessly risk his life for the entertainment of people he doesn't even know."

Link swallowed. "Actually, this might be a volunteer-your-own-life thing."

"You've got to be shitting me... Well, I'm not fronting a fortune to pay his hospital bill." Ike's eyes roamed over the gouts of lava shooting skyward from the ground and added as an afterthought, "Or his funeral costs. Those things have gotten expensive as hell over the years."

Falco was gazing thoughtfully through the little blue panel of the scouter at Pit now, who was running a last-minute diagnostic on his dingy kart. "That kart that the tournament committee donated him is a joke - twenty bucks says the insides are held together with rubber bands and Legos. I wonder... If I asked the MKGP people for a list of regulations, do you think they'd let me build him a new one?"

They swiveled their heads to regard him. "You do that?" Link asked.

"Yeah, kinda had to learn. When you spend half your life banging spaceships together and the other half around Slippy, it becomes second nature."

Link looked over at Ike. "Speaking of twenty bucks, you still owe me from that bet we made on Lucario and Meta Knight."

Ike glowered. "Your 'winnings' are in the fridge."

"Ah, sweet, sweet victory."

"Can it, bitch, or you'll be drinking your 'winnings' through an IV drip."

Link laughed good-naturedly as Falco interrupted, "Hey, okay, it looks like they're about to start, so shut up."

The announcer's voice boomed to life over a megaphone. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Mushroom Kingdom for this afternoon's final race of the pre-season Exhibition Cup. The track is Bowser's Castle; all standard rules apply. It's a three-lap race to the finish with various supplementary items interspersed between. Spectators - you will be detained overnight for the use of any weapons you may have brought with you today."

"It's becoming a health hazard just to go-kart race these days," Falco grumbled.

"Racers - start your engines, please."

It took Pit three tries before his engine gunned to life - Link dropped his head into his hands, Ike mumbled an incoherent string of curses, and Kirby wailed in melancholy.

3... 2... 1... They were off.

"Someone please tell me that, five minutes from now, Pit won't have died," Link muttered, and his face was tinged with a sickly green.

"Well, if he does, chances are we won't even see it," Ike told him.

"Relax, I'll give you a play-by-play." Falco followed Pit through the jump that led into the red-carpeted hallway, wincing as the wheels of his kart scraped mercilessly against Mario's. "He's in the hall now, and grinding with Mario... Jeez, he's been practicing, he looks really good, actually. Rounding the first turn now, in third place..."

Though Ike seemed utterly bored by the proceedings, Link was in total agony, staring up the hill while he waited for Pit to come tearing around the corner back into view. Every so often Falco would make a sound of dissent, or wince, and the Hylian would tense or squirm uncomfortably in his seat. After what seemed like an eternity the first kart spun around the corner, a second right on its heels -

It was Pit in the lead, with a slender figure on a motorcycle wearing a helmet just feet behind him.

"Oh my GOD!" shrieked Ike, dropping Kirby in his excitement. "Is that PIT?!"

Link and Falco leapt to their feet, all the better to watch; Kirby bounced up onto the Hylian's shoulders, waving and crying out to Pit enthusiastically -

That was when Pit hit the field of lava geysers, and the spray from one sent his kart flying off to the left. He cranked the wheel, beating his wings to correct his kart's course - it plowed right into the motorcycle trailing him and they both carreened toward the edge.

Toward the lava.

Kirby covered his eyes; Falco and Link grabbed each others' hands simultaneously, mouths wide with terror -

They both might still have managed to remain on the course, but at that precise moment Bowser came zipping around the corner with Luigi and Daisy in his wake. They were flinging green and red turtle shells furiously at one another; one flew astray and collided head-on with the spinning motorcycle.

The bike crunched into a leafless tree; Pit released his kart and fluttered safely to the ground with three more strong strokes of his wings. His kart plummeted into the lava, and he watched in horror as the motorcycle's helmeted rider skittered over the ledge and fell down toward the churning magma.

Pit took a running start toward the edge, spread his arms out wide, and jumped over the side after him.

"PIT! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!" Ike rose on Falco's other side, trembling with fury. "I don't believe this... he was gonna live, and now he's chucking himself to his death! Where's the logic in THAT?!"

The crowd watched with bated breath as Pit's wings beat furiously, catching the hot currents of air rolling off the waves of magma below, and then breathed a sigh of relief as he stretched out his arms and caught the falling motorcyclist in midair. Wings straining harder now he headed for the ledge, and there was a spattered round of applause when his feet touched the ground.

"The boy's mad," Falco wheezed, clutching his chest. "Fucking off his rocker..."

"I don't believe I just saw all that happen," muttered Link in disbelief.

Pit set the person he cradled upright on his own feet. "Are you alright?! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to run into you, I lost control and - "

His babbling was momentarily derailed; the motorcyclist wrestled out of his helmet and dropped it to the ground.

Ike, Link, and Falco felt their jaws detach from their bodies and plummet to the floor; Kirby whistled from Link's shoulders.

Standing in front of Pit was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. It had been foolish of him to assume that the rider had been anything BUT a woman - it was obvious now in the slender frame of her body, the delicate curve of her hips beneath her skintight racing suit... She shook her hair out over her shoulders in a wave - it was palest blonde, like golden moonlight. Her face was pale and luminous, her lips the color of pink rose petals, and her eyes were the most piercing shade of sky blue.

**NEWCOMER: ROSALINA** _(2007 Super Mario Galaxy, 2008 Mario Kart Wii)_

The woman glared at him; Pit swallowed and took a reflexive step away from her. "Why did you do that?! Your kart has been destroyed... You'll be disqualified!"

Pit blinked. "Is that all you're worried about? My stupid kart?"

Her expression softened a little, and her perfect lips even curled up into the shadow of a smile. "You could have been hurt on my behalf... That would have been unbearable. Of course I'm overreacting, Pit. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for saving my life."

"You know my name?" Pit was becoming more and more taken aback by the second.

Her eyes sparkled at him; he was reminded momentarily of that mysterious eyes-only smile that he frequently saw Lucario use. "Of course I do. You're the first new qualifier in years. Where are my manners?!" She extended a hand toward him; Pit took it carefully, petrified a stronger grip would break it. "I am Rosalina."

In the stands, Falco rolled his eyes. "PIT! GET OUTTA THE DAMN ROAD! YOU'RE GONNA GET SMASHED!"

Pit tightened his grip on Rosalina's hand, whisked her back into his arms, and took to the sky just as the forerunners of the race came barreling around the corner to complete lap two. The angel soared around the grandstand before coming to a rest on Link's other side, where he placed Rosalina gingerly back on her feet.

"Twice now you have saved my life," the lovely woman told him, and Pit's cheeks flushed. Ike gagged softly; Kirby giggled. "However will I repay you?"

"You could repay me by agreeing to come back to our house by the lake and share a drink with me," Pit suggested, looking like all his dreams were about to come true.

"Are you always this lame when you hit on women?" Link whispered in the angel's ear.

But they were all amazed when Rosalina tossed her hair over her shoulder and said, "I accept."

Pit and Rosalina were both disqualified; Rosalina's bike was fixable, but wouldn't be repaired in time for the up-and-coming Grand Prix. Pit's kart had been incinerated in the fall, and without a means to race his future in the Mario Kart Grand Prix seemed questionable at best.

Crammed in the backseat of Ike's Jeep with Rosalina pressed up against his side, Pit didn't care if he ever raced again.

* * *

><p><em>Meanwhile, at Brawlers Mansion...<em>

"So what are these 'plans' of yours?" Marth demanded of Wolf, skeptism and a little fear coloring his tone. Wolf was a pace or two ahead of him, laughing as he went, tracking upstairs to the second floor (where he had decided to reside, as Falco lived alone there). "Do they involve burning more holes in the walls? Perhaps the ceiling? Or the floor this time?"

"Damn - I thought you were whiny while we were busting our asses against Subspace, but I was definitely wrong - you are without a doubt the most gutless man I've ever met. And I get some weirdos out in space, but you, butterfly queen, put them all to shame." Wolf crested the top of the stairs and traipsed down the hall, past Falco's room to his own, and led the way inside.

Marth stopped seething at the biting comments when he saw the inside of the mercenary's room. It was fully furnished - had Wolf brought all this with him? - a bed, a sweeping, shaggy rug, a scrawling poster of the Venomian battle fleet (his own Wolfen proudly leading them), and a flatscreen plasma TV with four different video game systems crowded around it. There was a comfy-looking fold-out armchair tucked away behind a desk, which Marth promptly pulled out and made himself at home in; Wolf flicked on what looked like an XBox 360.

"Where did you get all this?" asked Marth, slightly uncomfortable to hear the answer.

Wolf answered him without even turning from the TV. "I borrowed a few things from Wal-Mart the night after I got here."

"'Borrowed'?" repeated Marth icily, eyeing the room's contents with distaste now.

"Yeah, borrowed. Synonym for stole. I'm a fucking mercenary - and the WORST kind, believe me. Did you really think I BOUGHT all this?"

Wolf was hooking several things up to the front of the game console; following the cords with his eyes Marth thought he saw a drum set folded up in one corner, two guitars, and a microphone. He chose to ignore Wolf's question and instead asked, "What are we doing?"

The mercenary rummaged in his closet and pulled out a hard-backed chair, plunking it down in front of the television, and it was in front of this that he dragged the drum set. "Now you're including yourself in my plans? Well, I guess you can play... but you're singing, so get those vocal cords of yours warmed up. Either that, or I'm sticking you on bass, 'cause it's boring as shit."

"What are you TALKING about?" Marth demanded, frustrated.

"We're playing Rock Band." Wolf paused in the middle of the room, a guitar slung over his shoulder by the strap and a microphone in his hand. "You want the mic or what, Shakira?"

He flung the microphone at Marth and the prince caught it in his hands, turning it over uncertainly. Wolf was setting preferences with his guitar at expert speed - it was clear he had done this a time or two before. Before Marth had worked up a good protest they were sitting at the song select screen, and Wolf was glaring at him impatiently. "Er... am I supposed to pick?"

"I guess." Wolf flicked idly through the list using the guitar's strum bar, stroking his chin with his free hand. "See anything you know? I'd rather not fail out on the first song, if you could possibly avoid it."

Marth gritted his teeth, watching the selection tick by, and clenched the mic tighter in his hand. "I don't exactly waste my life on video games. My most sincere apologies."

"Yeah, most beauty salons don't have an arcade in the back," snickered Wolf remorselessly, doubling over with laughter as he zipped through the list.

"Wait, I know that one." Marth pointed at the screen; Wolf, in his scrolling had landed on "Creep" by Radiohead.

Wolf continued laughing silently to himself - he selected the song, then chose lead guitar and the expert option. "Somehow I'm not surprised at all."

Marth growled and, navigating the screen with a handheld controller, selected vocals, followed by easy. "I'm about to disembowel you, mongrel."

"Take it easy, Madonna. Your sword's downstairs, regardless, and real mercenaries don't need guns to kill people. Consider that carefully." The song started.

_"When you were here before... I couldn't look you in the eye..."_

The song wasn't difficult, Marth noted with relief, and though his voice was far from perfect he could pick out most of the phrases and the way the melody moved with only minimal difficulty. He did, however, feel like an amateur standing next to Wolf; the mercenary looked almost bored as he shredded the lead guitar line. He didn't miss a single note.

"That wasn't bad, Cher." They had paused at the screen that reviewed their scores; Marth's, though not perfect, was still in the nintieth percentile. Wolf laid his guitar aside, stretched, and picked his way carefully to the door. "Beer? I might just camp out in here all day..."

They thudded back downstairs and made a beeline for the kitchen; Lucario and Meta Knight, still seated at the dining room table, looked around the moment Wolf opened the fridge.

"Who were you murdering upstairs?" Meta Knight asked delicately, the rare hint of laughter in his voice.

Wolf leaned around the door of the fridge, his arms laden with bottles, to regard them. "No one recently. But we are playing Rock Band. You probably just heard Britney Spears here shrieking through the vocal line."

As he ducked back into the fridge, Marth kicked him in the rump; Wolf didn't budge an inch. Lucario's eyes twinkled when he said, _Oh, it was just Marth singing... thank goodness. All this time I thought someone was swinging a bag of cats against the wall._

Marth glowered at the Pokemon, who shook with telepathic laughter; Meta Knight was actually chortling out loud now, clutching his stomach with his gloved hands. "I'd like to see either of you do better."

_Seeing as how I cannot verbally speak, singing, I think, is out of the question,_ Lucario assured him, but he rose from his chair. _I suppose I could come and watch, though, it looks like rain..._

He pointed out the window; clouds were gathering, iron gray against the pale blue of the summer sky, and churning menacingly in their direction. Meta Knight hopped out of his chair too.

They returned to Wolf's room, all four, and everyone stared silently at the drum set until Lucario claimed the seat before it and took up the drumsticks in his hands. Wolf eyed him questioningly; Lucario gazed back evenly. _Would you rather play the drums?_

"No, I'd rather play lead, but I don't know how comfortable I feel with a greenhorn pounding out my beat for me." Wolf tapped one foot impatiently; Meta Knight picked the other guitar and tested it out in his hands. He looked incredibly out of his element.

As they watched, Lucario rolled one drumstick gracefully around his wrist, flicked it up into the air, and caught it effortlessly all in one sinuous movement. _Did you not hear our conversation at breakfast? I was once a very renown techno DJ. You cannot be such a thing if you have no concept of time, or a beat. I will be very clear._

Wolf scrolled through the setlist again, stopping at "Learn to Fly" by the Foo Fighters. "This one okay for you, Beyonce?" he asked Marth with a snicker.

Marth's eyes gleamed maliciously. "Just start the fucking song."

Wolf chose expert again, not at all surprised with Marth and Meta Knight both picked easy. He did lift an eyebrow, though, when Lucario pondered the choice for a moment, and then decided to go with medium.

"You've never played," Wolf reminded him, clearly displeased.

_As I promised,_ Lucario answered with his eyes-only smile, _inescapably clear._

The mercenary sighed, and they started.

This song was quicker than the last; Marth had trouble keeping up with the words at times as they scrolled relentlessly across the top of the screen. Wolf's hands were a blur along the buttons and strum bar of his guitar, his head nodding in time with the beat; Lucario approached the drum patterns with indivisible focus, tapping out each rhythm with flawless ease. But Meta Knight was the real problem; the concept of the game seemed to escape him completely as he strummed in all the wrong places and often was pushing the wrong buttons. Wolf and Lucario rescued poor Meta Knight from failing once each - they almost didn't clear the tune.

At the results screen, Wolf surveyed the numbers. Marth was in the eighties - acceptable. Meta Knight's score made him shudder, his own gave him a smirk of satisfaction, and he turned his attention to Lucario's.

...It was perfect.

"Huh." Wolf blinked surprisedly and returned them to the setlist. "Not bad. I guess I underestimated you."

Lucario scoffed. _I think I nearly fell asleep during that song. It was easier than I was expecting._

After Wolf chose "Reptilia" by The Strokes, Lucario clicked the drumset difficulty up to expert. Meta Knight sighed when he clicked easy; Marth, finally starting to enjoy himself, picked easy again with enthusiasm. They started.

Lucario was a dream come true as he pounded out each complex rhythm with unprecedented finesse - Wolf missed several notes in the lead guitar line just to watch him - and then suddenly, thirty seconds into the song, they had failed it.

Wolf unstrapped his guitar and flung it to the floor. "What the hell just happened?!"

They all looked at Meta Knight. He followed Wolf's example and tossed his guitar, not at the floor, but at the wall. "Fuck this game."

Marth was laughing when he said, "I think he forgot to strum. Meta, you've got to STRUM when the note crosses the little colored bar, look - "

He picked up Wolf's guitar to demonstrate; Meta Knight tore Galaxia from its scabbard and tapped its gleaming tip against Marth's inner thigh with menace in his eyes. The exiled prince promptly dropped the device and leapt backward a step as though he had been electrocuted. Wolf cracked open a beer, watching their antics with amusement until Lucario sighed in boredom.

"Why don't you two sit this next one out?" he suggested to Meta Knight and Marth, who were still glaring threateningly at one another, and he retrieved his guitar and strapped it back on. "Lucario, I wanna try something."

He zoomed through the playlist without really looking at it and selected "Run to the Hills" by Iron Maiden, grinning evilly when Lucario foolishly chose expert. As the song started he muttered, "You're about to wish you'd never been born."

Lucario snickered in his head but said nothing in reply.

Wolf felt very stupid when, a few minutes later, Lucario saved him from failing. When the song was over, Lucario received a higher score than Wolf did!

Wolf was beside himself. "You are a total fucking bad-ass!" he told Lucario, unmistakeable awe in his voice. "That might be the hardest song in the entire game to play on drums. And you just sat down fifteen minutes ago..."

The Pokemon smiled knowingly with his eyes and did something none of them had ever witnessed: he reached over, cracked open a beer, and clinked his bottle against Wolf's before chugging it down.


	6. The One With the Hot Tub

The quartet of Rock Band players were about to attempt their next song when the front door opened and then abruptly slammed; this was followed by the sound of many voices filling the entryway. Marth replaced the microphone on its stand as Lucario laid the drumsticks aside, and they traipsed together down one flight of stairs to the ground floor; Wolf and Meta Knight thundered after them. Link, Ike, Kirby, and Falco had returned from the Mario Kart Grand Prix racetracks, but surprisingly Pit was with them... and, of course, a gorgeous woman that none of the Rock-Banders recognized. Wolf stopped dead on the second to last step, his eyes wide and his mouth gaping comically; Ike, Falco, and Link all seemed to be having difficulty keeping their eyes of her as well. Pit was beaming idiotically.

"Er... welcome back," Marth stammered, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand; several of the other men followed suit distractedly. "Uh... are you guys going to introduce your new friend?"

"Oh!" Pit managed to tear his eyes away from the beautiful woman standing beside him long enough to make eye contact with Marth - behind him, Falco rolled his eyes and Link pretended to vomit on the rug by the door. "I'm sorry! Guys - this is Rosalina. She was racing in the MKGP with me, but there was an accident and... well... I sorta... saved her life."

Rosalina smiled widely at Pit, her teeth glimmering so brightly that several of the brawlers squinted at her loveliness. "He behaved so admirably, so selflessly... I just had to return here with him to meet his fearless friends, and get to know you all!"

"If she wanted to meet some fearless guys, she came to the wrong damn house," mumbled Wolf beneath his breath; only Meta Knight was near enough to hear, and he did well to disguise his laugh as a sudden hacking fit.

"Is it about lunchtime?" asked Falco suddenly, one hand on his stomach and his eyes on Kirby hopefully; in response, the Dreamlandian hopped into the kitchen. Rosalina, giggling loftily, floated after him; Pit stumbled along in her wake, oblivious to his surroundings. At a sign from Ike the others made a beeline to the stockier swordsman's room, and when they had all filed hurriedly in he slammed the door behind them and pointedly locked it.

There was silence only for a moment before everyone burst into half-formed protests.

"Who the fuck is THAT?!" exclaimed Wolf, prostrating himself upon one of the overstuffed beanbags in amazement.

"That," sighed Falco, crossing his arms and ruffling his feathers, "is the hottest chick on the planet, and she just came home with the worlds' biggest loser."

"And what the hell is a woman like THAT doing with PIT?!" shrieked Wolf, his voice shooting through several octaves in his hysteria.

Falco rolled his eyes as though he were about to be sick. "It was so fucking stupid... She and Pit had a collision, and instead of letting her fry the damn fool chucked himself into a pool of lava after her. So this morning when he left he was still just a pathetic moron - and now he's a pathetic moron with a really hot piece of ass haunting his every step. Go figure that."

"So THAT'S how dweebs like Pit get chicks out of their clothes," Ike mused, considering the idea as he collapsed on his futon. "They offer up their lives. Huh... It was always so much easier for me to get women, I forgot that some guys have it rough. All I have to do is swing my sword around a few times, take off my shirt, and somehow work my penis size into the conversation."

Link slouched back against the mountain of pillows in one corner, looking horribly dejected. "She's so hot I might cry myself to sleep tonight."

Wolf was eyeing Ike now, half in suspicion, half in curiosity. "...Just how long are we talking, here?"

"Longer than that purple dildo you hide in the back of your closet," Ike muttered, and Wolf choked on his own saliva. Lucario and Meta Knight chuckled quietly to themselves.

"She's not planning on sleeping with him, is she?" Falco asked Link, shuddering at Ike's previous statement. "Not that it would have much effect, since I'm pretty sure his balls haven't dropped yet."

Link shrugged, looking increasingly more melancholy. "She doesn't seem like the type that puts out on short notice. You know the type I mean - uptight, rich, well-dressed, etiquette-centered? She'd probably make you donate to the charity of her choice before she'd let you get to second base."

"She's too frail for me," Ike said thoughtfully, though he could have easily been talking to himself. "Too fragile-looking... My luck I'd put her through a wall, or snap her in half..." He let the unfinished statement linger, though, when he met Marth's wrathful gaze.

Wolf seemed to have recovered somewhat, and he asked Ike again, "Seriously... How long?"

"Just take a look at the ruler Marth keeps in the top drawer of his dresser. He's got the measurement ticked off with red magic marker."

"I give Pit two days," Falco interrupted, "before he fucks the whole thing up and Rose leaves him."

"Two days?" Link snickered and shook his head as though this was ridiculous. "He'll be lucky if he gets two hours with that chick."

A beat or two of silence followed this confident proclamation, then Falco barked, "Dibs."

There was a collective hissing of dissent mixed with various obscenities from all sides, followed by silence as they all contemplated this unforseen turn of events. Then, from the kitchen, came the barely-audible cry of Rosalina's wind-chime voice: "Boys! Lunchtime!"

As they filed out of Ike's bedroom and down the hallway Wolf murmured, "If Pit loses his virginity to a chick who's hotter than any of the chicks I've ever scored with - COMBINED -, I think I'll stab myself in the face."

* * *

><p>The day turned gloomy in a hurry; clouds continued to roll in until the sky had darkened to a near-nighttime brightness, chasing away the summer sun for the first time in weeks. The cloud cover made being outside bearable, even despite the awful humidity, and so no one was particularly surprised when, a couple of hours after lunch, Falco turned his head to regard Lucario from his position on the living room couch.<p>

"Hey, Luca... be a pal, would ya? Say you'll battle me in the backyard in, say, ten minutes? Just long enough for me to get off my ass, take a piss, and chug a beer - I've been feeling so lazy lately."

Lucario pried his eyes away from the James Bond movie they had all been halfheartedly watching, looking amused and incredulous as he gingerly ran his hand over his bandages. _When did I become everyone's sparring partner of choice? Is there no one else here you could do battle with?_

"I think everybody's got it out for you, bud, hate to break it to ya - you took down Meta Knight, and that was kind of a big deal. But if you'd rather not - "

The aura Pokemon's musical laugh drifted into their minds; Link, sitting across the room, found himself smiling at the sound. _I accept, Falco, but I do propose that we battle in pairs - I am still healing, and you have not had a serious battle in many months._

Falco eyed the room at large. "Anybody interested in being my second?"

Half-asleep on the floor, Ike issued a muffled grunt into the carpet that everyone else interpreted as a sound of acceptance. Lucario lifted one eyebrow, scanning the faces of the others, waiting for someone to offer to partner him in the upcoming fight; Link opened his mouth to jump at the chance -

"Let me, Lucario, I'm dying to see what these slobs are capable of now that we've all had time to slack off on our training since Tabuu died."

Everyone turned to regard Wolf, who was sitting with his back against the wall at an angle that made viewing the television screen impossible; his scouter issued a whirring sound and clicked into place over his brow. Falco snorted and made no effort to stifle the sound, prompting Wolf to turn a venomous eye in his direction. "Something funny, bird?"

"Yeah - I think you must've forgotten that you turned in your guns the day you got here and idiotically attempted to hold up a mansion full of some of this world's greatest heroes." Falco kicked his booted feet up onto the arm of the couch, looking as cocky as ever. "How do you expect to second Luca when you've got no weapons?"

Wolf sat up a little straighter, smirking now. "Kid, just how long have you been a mercenary?"

The others all stiffened when Wolf referred to Falco as 'kid'; the avian himself looked highly displeased. "I joined the Cornerian Army when I was seventeen; I've been flying under General Pepper's flag since then. So, what... eight years?"

"Eight years, huh?" The feared Star Wolf commander chuckled under his breath and shook his head. "And in eight years you never learned the most valuable lesson that being a hired killer can teach you?"

"And what's that, grandpa?"

"That a really good merc doesn't need a weapon to kill anybody."

Sprawled in the middle of the living room floor, Ike chuckled into the carpet with wicked amusement; Lucario's strange red-orange eyes smiled, happy to have Wolf as a fighting partner, and the others all murmured sounds of incredulation and awe. Falco's eyes narrowed into slits and he leapt to his feet, glaring down at Wolf; the hardened mercenary commander gazed right back, cackling his gruff, merciless laugh. The tension in the room was almost tangible.

"Get up," snarled Falco, no longer sounding playful but downright enraged. "You're mine."

"What's the rush, bird? Thought you had prior engagements - you know, peeing and getting smashed? I'll still be ready to kick your ass when you're done." Wolf tilted his head to regard Lucario, and the two exchanged a knowing glance. "My guess is Lucario will be ready too, am I right, Luca?"

_Patience is a virtue._ The Pokemon's eyes veritably sparkled with mischief. He climbed ever-so-gracefully to his feet; a faint pulsing of electric-blue aura was brightening around him, outlining his body. Pit, sitting at the other end of the couch with one arm draped around Rosalina's shoulders, winked at Link excitedly.

Seething, Falco stalked one step closer to the still-reclining Wolf, one hand drifting menacingly to one of the pistols holstered upon his belt; Lucario's eyes flashed as his aura blazed to life around his right paw, and then, from his place on the floor, Ike spoke.

"For shit's sake, you two, you don't need to tear up the goddamn house. Let's head outside and settle this without blowing up our bachelor pad. Besides, Falco, you have nothing to worry about - we're gonna massacre these two anyway, so what's the point in wasting all your energy standing around shouting about it?"

Ike clambered slowly to his feet, yawning hugely; Wolf and Lucario were the ones glaring now. Falco's face twisted into a devious smile. The others all leaned subconsciously away from the four soon-to-be-opponents, as though afraid to be caught in the skirmish.

"Let me get this straight," started Wolf, shoving away from the wall and taking his feet. "You think that YOU can defeat US?"

"I'm pretty sure that's what I said," snickered Ike. "Get the hearing aid checked, grandpa."

Wolf's face soured; Meta Knight and Marth snorted behind their hands. "I spent the last four months picking off hit-men hired by the Cornerian Army - " Falco's eyes blazed, " - and you think you can take me on?"

"Hit-men, huh? That's impressive. Were they ALL six-year-olds armed with Nerf guns?"

"Hilarious." There was a steely glint to Wolf's eyes that made them all very nervous; he pitched his voice low and raised the hackles on the back of his neck. "I know it's probably impossible, but do you think you can yank your dick out of Marth's mouth long enough for me to snap your neck?"

Ike lifted Ragnell with a growl, but Lucario was there, separating them in an instant.

_That's quite enough - from ALL of you. I agree with Ike; if we are planning on battling, we should all head outdoors. Now._

Falco, at least, needed no further prompting; he turned and marched straight outside without a backward glance or a word to anyone. Still eyeing one another with an equal amount of distrust Ike and Wolf followed after the avian, and Lucario stayed close behind them, prepared to intervene again if necessary. Link, Meta Knight, Marth, and Kirby all hurried after them (though Link and Marth stopped to gather a few bottles from the refrigerator first); Pit rose from the couch, stretching luxuriously, and offered Rosalina a hand.

"Ever the gentleman," she observed with a warm smile, accepting his hand and allowing him to tug her to her feet, and Pit's answering smile would have parted the clouds on a stormy day. As they traipsed for the back porch Rosalina asked, "Are they all really about to fight each other?"

Pit looked a little sheepish at the reply he was about to give. "Well... er... yeah. It's sorta the reason we're all here; it's become a livelihood for most of these guys. Some people, like Link, are in it just out of their chivalrous nature... guys like Wolf and Falco do it for money, and men like Meta Knight and Lucario are only in it to better their bodies and souls by getting stronger and wiser. Marth is an exiled prince, so he didn't really have any other options, and Ike... well, I personally think he doesn't have the brains to do much else."

Rosalina giggled at this last statement; Pit offered her his arm, and they walked outside together.

Angry gray-black clouds roiled in the sky overhead, promising rain at some point; the other spectators were getting situated on the roof to watch the match. Rather than force Rosalina to climb the sloping shingles Pit took her gently into his arms and spread his wings, soaring up the fifteen or so feet to perch beside Marth. Link was mixing something green for him, Marth, and Meta Knight; Pit waved off the offer, and Rosalina politely declined.

Link watched Lucario in the yard, the only one of the four combatants who was not walking himself through any sort of warm-up routine; the Pokemon's eyes were firmly closed and he stood stock still, as though he were concentrating very hard on something. "Do you think he'll be okay?" he asked Meta Knight concernedly, his eyes fixed anxiously on Lucario's bandages.

"He is stronger than all of them," Meta Knight assured, in as sympathetic a tone as his gravelly voice would allow. "Perhaps stronger than any man I have ever met. Even with injuries he is a formidable foe, and he has a very powerful mercenary commander on his side this time. Do not worry for him."

The Hylian swallowed his sickly-green shot in one gulp, hoping to drown the butterflies in his stomach. It didn't work.

"Come on!" shouted Marth from Meta Knight's other side. "Get the show on the road!"

Pit joined in, laughing riotously, as at the end of the roof Kirby chirruped his agreement; below them, Ike slowed his sword's movement to balance the hefty blade on his shoulder, Wolf cracked his back with a sharp twisting movement, and Falco dipped into an almost feral crouch. Lucario remained where he was, absolutely motionless, his eyes still closed.

"Looks like it's you against us, Wolfy-boy; Lucario's taking a nap." Ike snickered under his breath and stalked a couple of steps closer, his hands wringing Ragnell's hilt eagerly, as on his other side Falco's hands drifted back down to his two holstered laser pistols...

Wolf made a dive for Falco as the avian tore the pistols from his belt with a lightning-fast movement, tucking into a roll in time to avoid the first stream of laser bullets that lanced his way. He kept firing, but this was clearly a mistake - when Wolf came up to his feet he was so close to Falco that the avian couldn't possibly get a gun into his face... Wolf smirked before balling his dominant hand into a fist and flattening Falco's beak with it.

Ike took advantage of Lucario's apparent obliviousness and dashed forward, head down, sword point leading; at the last moment Lucario's eyes snapped open, flashing an eerie orange, just as Link opened his mouth to scream out some sort of frenzied warning -

The Pokemon's growl of exertion overrode the Hylian's cry, though, as in the last instant before Ike's massive sword cleaved him in two Lucario raised an arm before him in defense and his immeasurable aura enshrouded his arm in the form of an impenetrable tower shield. Ike swung nonetheless, an almost manic gleam in his eye, dead-set on testing the strength of the conjured shield; he clenched the weapon in both hands and brought it slamming down upon the Aura Shield with every ounce of his strength.

Lucario winced at the force behind the blow and stumbled back a few inches, but the shield held without so much as a crack upon its perfect turquoise surface. Ike retracted the blade and came in at a different angle, determined - the steel of the sword clanged against the shield as though it, too, were made of some indestructible metal, sparks of glowing aura flew at the impact, but it barely even trembled.

Up on the roof, Marth leaned forward, squinting. "Hey... what's that on Lucario's shield? Does anybody else see that?"

The others focused closer on the glimmering surface of the shield, and after a moment or two Link started when he recognized the standard emblazoned in its center.

The decorated Triforce. The emblem of Hyrule.

Link's chest swelled with pride.

"You think you can just hide behind your damn shield?!" shrieked Ike in frustration, coming in with a series of rapid strokes that all glanced off the Aura Shield, leaving not a dent, not even a scratch. "You fucking coward! Fight me!"

Falco gritted his teeth and swung the pistol in his dominant hand, handle-first, only to connect with nothing but air as the blow swept harmlessly over Wolf's head. The Venomian ex-mercenary commander had been correct, the avian realized with a stab of momentary panic - he really didn't need weapons to kill anyone! While Falco was swinging like a lunatic Wolf landed three nonlethal blows with his fists - chest, stomach, ribcage - and when Falco finally landed a single hit with the butt of his off-hand laser gun that connected solidly with Wolf's muzzle his opponent grimaced away the pain and laid Falco low with a punch that was enough to bruise every single one of the avian's ribs on the left side of his chest.

Not only that, but Falco dropped one of his guns in the process.

Wolf crouched low, blood flowing freely from his nose, as Falco rolled up onto one knee, one arm clenched over his aching ribs and wincing; both sets of eyes sought the gun lying between them in the grass.

Each dove, but neither of them even got close.

One arm supporting the massive aura-spawned tower shield Lucario whipped around and extended his hand before him, a movement as quick as a stroke of lightning, as though he were cracking an invisible whip; the aura twinkling around his free paw crackled to life in the shape of a rope, its loose end twining into a small loop, deftly hooking the dropped firearm and yanking it hopelessly out of reach. Falco, surprised by the maneuver, gaped stupidly in Lucario's direction, leaving Wolf a free opportunity to lash out with a punch that blacked the avian's right eye.

With a flick of his wrist Lucario sent the Aura Whip spiraling, releasing it at the precise moment to catch the spinning pistol. He then tossed it right past the unsuspecting Ike, who had his sword up as if in an attempt to block the blasts he assumed were coming his way, right into Wolf's waiting hand.

"Now that I'm armed, kid," growled Wolf, wiping the last of the blood from his nose with the back of his free hand, "you're REALLY in for it."

"Am I?" snarled Falco, and he fired with his remaining weapon. Wolf strafed to one side and returned fire, but Falco was quick and managed to dance away before any of the shots could find their mark.

Lucario recalled the Aura Whip and lashed it almost playfully at Ike's ankles; the former mercenary scowled and hacked at the tower shield behind which the Pokemon stood again, but to the same effect as before. Lucario's whip flashed out, impossibly fast, and lassoed one of Ike's ankles, and with a quick tug on the translucent azure rope he had the mercenary flat on his back in the grass.

_Swords are not always useful,_ growled Lucario's telepathic voice, full of all the beauty and terror of a destroying angel, and he yanked Ike closer and prepared to bash him with the Aura Shield full-force.

Two things happened at once that brought the battle to a very sudden end.

Wolf dipped down to avoid a spray of laser fire and aimed carefully in the half-second afforded to him, landing a glancing blow that burned the flesh over Falco's achilles tendon. The avian shrieked in agony and swooned for the ground, and Wolf dashed in for the easy victory.

Flat on his back in front of Lucario, Ike waited until the Pokemon was poised and off-balance directly above him before he made his last offensive maneuver. He jabbed the point of Ragnell upward at an awkward angle, hooking its tip just under the bottom edge of the tower shield, and pulled it toward him with all his might; Lucario stumbled and had no choice but to release the shield in order to keep himself upright. Ike rocked up onto his knees with impeccable balance at the precise moment that Lucario lashed the Aura Whip again, but freeing up one hand he managed to wrap the whip around his arm and pull the Pokemon closer still.

Wolf kicked Falco's last pistol out of his hand and set the barrel of the gun he held against the avian's temple, turning to face Ike just as the former mercenary tripped Lucario down to his knees and rolled around him, coming up behind with Ragnell's golden blade resting against Lucario's neck.

On the roof, the others stopped breathing.

"So how do we decide who wins?" asked Ike idly, smirking at Wolf across the ten-foot distance.

"I got set first, if it's all the same to you, so I think Lucario and I win." The scouter whirred momentarily, then clicked into place on Wolf's brow; he surveyed Ike calmly but ferociously.

"Bullshit - we were set at the same time." Ike tightened his grip on Ragnell, inching its blade closer to Lucario's exposed neck.

Wolf turned his gaze to the roof, where the others were watching their too-relaxed discussion with wide eyes and gaping mouths. "Anybody see who got set first?"

"It happened so fast..." Marth shook his head vigorously, as if to clear his vision.

"There is no way to be certain," agreed Meta Knight tersely.

Rosalina's terrified eyes were locked on the battlefield, her hands covering her mouth in horror; Pit squeezed her shoulders with his arm, his brow furrowed in anxiety. Kirby was no longer chirruping happily; Link was silent, his eyes fixed furiously on Ragnell's golden length where it rested, keen edge pressed against Lucario's throat.

Ike suddenly changed tactics, widening his smile when he hissed, "I can think of another way to decide who wins this match." He ended by adjusting the sword's angle, forcing Lucario to raise his head a little higher, but even so the blade cut a superficial line of blood an inch across just below his graceful jawline.

Wolf couldn't help looking a little surprised before his face smoothed itself back into its glassy mask of indifference - then he jabbed the barrel of the laser pistol none-too-gently into Falco's temple and tightened his finger on the trigger. "Enlighten me."

"How about... whoever makes the quickest kill?"

The others were on their feet in an instant, leaping off the roof and sprinting down the patio stairs, leaving a baffled Rosalina frozen where she sat. Kirby, Meta Knight and Pit stopped behind Wolf, Galaxia and the revered Bow of Palutena poised to intervene, but Wolf extended his free hand toward them to give them pause, his eyes never leaving Ike's. "You don't have it in you, kid."

Ike's face twisted into an unattractive snarl and he jerked the sword up recklessly; a single drop of blood stained the sword's tip, and Lucario uttered the softest of groans. Behind Ike, eyes livid, Link drew the Master Sword from its well-oiled sheath as beside him, Marth drew Falchion with one hand and placed a restraining hand upon Link's shoulder. "Don't I? I'm a mercenary, just like you. You have no idea how many men I've killed."

Amazingly, Wolf barked out a laugh. "Maybe a hundred in some war somewhere. And that's all fine and good, but you haven't thought it all the way through. You haven't considered your opponent closely enough... see, you might have killed a few dozen men in your life, but do you know how you compare to a guy like me? I've roamed the Lylat System for a couple of decades - I've killed hundreds, maybe thousands, in my pursuit of bringing down General Pepper and the Loyalist empire. And you haven't considered how flimsy your bluff looks. You've got Lucario at sword-point - Lucario, a guy you fought next to when Tabuu came knocking, Lucario, a guy as good-hearted as you. You have no intention of hurting him; it's obviously killing you to keep up this charade. And then you've got me." Wolf interrupted himself to share a smile so wicked that it made the hair on the back of Ike's neck stand on end. "I don't stick to the same moral code that you guys do - I have no qualms with killing anybody. And what a coincidence - I've got the infamous Falco Lombardi at gun-point, a guy who's allied with my arch-nemesis, a guy I've clearly wanted dead almost as long as I've been in Andross's employ. Not to mention that I could probably plug Falco and then plug you, before you could so much as twitch. So before you make any more threats, ask yourself this question: Is this a very good idea, or am I about to get myself shot for no good reason?"

"You'd kill Falco? Just like that... just to win?" Ike's resolve was beginning to crumble.

Wolf snickered and cocked the pistol with his thumb. "Hell, if you don't believe me, call my bluff. But it'll be Lombardi's blood on your hands... you willing to pay that price?"

Ike shook his head, eyes aflame, and cast Ragnell away from him; it landed in the grass fifteen feet away with a dull thud. All eyes trained themselves on Wolf, hoping against hope that they could get to Falco before he could pull the trigger -

Wolf tossed the gun carelessly over his shoulder; Kirby caught it, looking surprised, an expression the others shared when Wolf extended a hand toward Falco to help the avian up. Falco took it begrudgingly, glaring at the lupine through the single eye that wasn't swolled shut. Ike looked aghast.

"Should've called my bluff," Wolf told him simply, and laughing raucously he slung a carefree arm around Falco's shoulders and led the other mercenary toward the house. "Come on, Lombardi, let's get you a beer - it looks like someone pelted you in the face with a meat tenderizer, Jesus Christ - "

They all watched Wolf and Falco retreat into the house together, shocked and speechless, then Ike spat into the grass in irritation. "God damn I'm an idiot."

Link shoved past Ike and heaved Lucario to his feet, using one hand to tilt the Pokemon's head up to inspect the wound on his neck. It was barely bleeding; Link sighed with relief. "I think I need another drink after all that - what a nail-biter."

"Me too," choked out Pit.

"I need a fucking pint," corrected Marth, sounding stressed, and he followed Wolf and Falco, sword-tip dragging in the grass.

* * *

><p>The rain held off all afternoon, but the weather was no less humid and gloomy when the sun went down. Coupled with the fact that it was mid-summer and there was absolutely no breeze, it was absolutely miserable outside, so Link wasn't quite sure what to say to Falco's after-dinner proposition.<p>

"So I was thinking about a midnight dip in the hot tub on the roof - care to join me?"

Link blinked a few times imperceptibly, perfectly confused. "How hard did Wolf hit you? It's ninety-something degrees outside, and you want to sit around in the hot tub? What's the matter with you?"

They were lounging in two of the back-porch patio chairs, each holding a longnecked bottle, watching the evening fishermen putter across the lake in their rowboats. Falco stretched gingerly, wincing when the motion ignited the pain in his ribs. "I was just thinking that it would make me feel better, especially after the horrendous beating I got this afternoon."

He lifted up his shirt, displaying the angry blue-and-purple bruising that was already clearly visible all down the left side of his abdomen and chest; Link grimaced apologetically. Falco just shrugged.

"Pit thinks it'll be good for my ribs. Besides, I'm not letting you pass up this opportunity," added the avian, pulling his shirt back down and relaxing back in his chair.

The Hylian's eyes narrowed, but it seemed clear that Falco had no intention of continuing his train of thought, so he pressed, "Opportunity?"

"Yeah - you and Lucario." Link blushed, as if on cue, and Falco crowed victoriously. "Don't think that just because Wolf was beating the shit out of me I didn't notice the symbol on Lucario's Aura Shield... do you think that means nothing? You said that you almost went for it with him, what, a week ago, and you've been kicking yourself ever since? Take advantage of the situation, Link, before he loses interest. You're a good guy - it's about time that something like this happened to you. You owe it to yourself."

"Falco, I couldn't possibly - "

"No, Link, don't argue. He wants you, and you want him. I see it every time you look at each other."

Link abruptly fell silent. Against Falco's logic, there was no excuse he could make that would seem sound.

The avian gingerly took his feet, draining the rest of his beer in a single gulp as he turned for the patio door. "Well, I'm gonna head inside and invite a couple of the other guys before I change into my swim trunks. I'd better see you on the roof in fifteen, or I'm gonna kick your ass for being such a pansy."

He disappeared inside. Link gazed after him, glassy-eyed.

When he stepped out onto the sun deck twenty minutes later, Pit and Falco were lounging in the jacuzzi and sharing one of their favorite tales of the war against Subspace. Falco grinned widely at Link when he sank into the steaming, bubbling water next to him.

"You're late," joked the avian, offering the Hylian a good-natured wink.

Link relaxed down into the water, shifting so that his back was against a jetstream, and breathed a sigh of contentment. "Just the three of us?"

Falco reached behind him and produced a few beers from a sun deck table, passing them around to his two friends. "Lucario said he'd be right up, and Marth said that Ike is being pissy - he seemed pretty relieved to have an excuse to get away for awhile, if you ask me."

"Poor guy." Link chuckled beneath his breath. "He'll be sore tomorrow - I'll be surprised if he can sit down at all."

They shared a dark laugh at that, just as the roof-hatch opened and Marth crested the ladder leading onto the sun deck. The exiled prince crossed the rooftop and dropped his towel at the jacuzzi's edge; Link watched Falco's eyes rake interestedly over Marth's bare upper torso before he stepped into the frothing water and lowered himself down with a sigh of contentment.

"Better not let Ike catch you doing that," Link muttered to Falco, in what he thought was a tone soft enough for only the avian to hear.

Unfortunately, Marth overheard. "Doing what?"

"Nothing," answered Falco quickly, lifting his arms out of the water and propping them up on the hot tub's black marble edge. "How's the meathead?"

Marth glowered back at him, looking like a male supermodel all the while. "Seething. He's furious at himself for not seeing through Wolf's lies."

"Yeah, but I'm not sure any of us would've had the presence of mind or the know-how to even consider calling Wolf's bluff," Falco said placatingly, looking slightly unnerved. "For awhile there I honestly thought he was gonna kill me, and look... turns out the old bastard was just kidding, just using me to get the win. I mean, seriously - did any of you think, for even a second, that Wolf was just kidding around?"

Pit stared down at the foaming surface of the water, looking disconcerted. "No... I really thought he was going to kill you. Rose looked like she was going to be sick..."

Link and Marth exchanged a glance but didn't answer. They had both been standing at Ike's back, facing Wolf across the yard, and had seen every expression that crossed the Venomian mercenary's face... and never once had they witnessed any emotion aside from malice.

"How's Lucario doing?" Marth asked instead, turning his eyes toward Pit. Link felt a familiar blush creep up his throat and redden his cheeks, and was grateful that the sun had long since set.

"Perfectly fine," assured Palutena's emissary. "Drained, though. He expended a great deal of his aura just to keep that shield up, and when he split his focus to utilize the shield AND that whip... no, he'll be fine, but he needs to rest. There's barely a scratch on his neck, though, don't worry - Ike didn't hurt him."

The vice around Link's lungs eased its pressure at those words, but at that precise moment the roof-hatch clanked open again and the sight of Lucario moving gracefully to join them tightened the vice painfully again, leaving Link breathless. Falco ducked his head toward the water's surface to hide his smirk.

"Speak of the devil!" exclaimed Marth, greeting Lucario with a smile and a wave and scooting over a little closer toward Pit; Lucario returned the salutations with his whimsical eyes-only smile and drifted into the last remaining seat in the jacuzzi. It just happened to be right beside Link; the Hylian felt his blush deepen and looked away, desperate to hide it. "You looked good today, Lucario, near-death-experience aside. Ike fought a little dirty, honestly, getting in under that shield of yours was kind of a mix of cheating and luck."

_It is my own fault,_ protested Lucario, an edge of frustration to his telekinetic speech. _I let myself take on an overconfident mindset. It is good that he broke through my defenses... I needed to be humbled after a performance like that. A good warrior always accepts that he is not the strongest fighter in all the wide world, that there is always someone more skilled to be found. Ike was the better fighter today._

"Debateable," Falco argued, and he leaned his head back against the marble and closed his eyes with a sigh, perfectly relaxed. "You had the guy beat, Luca - call a spade a spade. He's lost a lot of his edge since he left the Greil Mercenaries and we drove Subspace back. He can't hope to contend with a guy like Wolf on a fair level anymore. Hell, neither can I. You all saw the way he trounced me earlier."

"Your mangled face is a good reminder," laughed Link, throwing up an arm in time to shield his face from most of the scalding water Falco splashed his way; the others joined in the laughter.

They chatted idly together, meandering aimlessly through topic after topic for perhaps half an hour, until Lucario's eyes flashed the amber hue they always took on when his innate aura alerted him to some new or outside occurrence. _The doorbell just rang. There is commotion in the driveway._

"Well, I'm basically a prune by now, so I might as well get out and see who the hell it is." Falco stretched one last time, wincing at the dull ache in his ribs, and rose; Link was surprised to see Marth sneak a glance at the avian before turning his head discreetly.

"Falcons can prune?" asked Pit skeptically, following suit and stepping out of the jacuzzi. "That's bizarre - you have no skin."

"Up yours, angel-boy."

Pit cackled beneath his breath. "You're not putting anything up mine, flea-brain."

"Try to hide your disappointment. Besides, I'm a little big for you, I'd probably tear up your asshole."

Falco dashed across the rooftop and down the ladder into the house, laughing, Pit tearing after him shouting expletives. Marth clambered out of the hot tub after them, toweling himself dry as he went.

There was silence only for the span of half a heartbeat after the others had departed before Link addressed Lucario. "Hey! No bandages!"

It was true: Lucario's chest was unwrapped for the first time since his epic battle with Meta Knight. There was a very thin scar that ran the length of his narrow chest, but otherwise no lasting effects of the once-serious wound. The Pokemon brushed one paw gently over the bone-white mark, frowning slightly. _Yes - the scar may fade a little more, but I do not think it will ever disappear completely._

Link wasn't sure what made him do it - was Lucario really magnetic to him, as Falco had once suggested? -, but before he had even considered the action he was leaning toward Lucario, carefully running his fingertips through the soft fur over the scar, breathing in Lucario's otherwordly scent -

Lucario's muzzle brushed his ear, mouth parted slightly in surprise. _Link... what...?_

"I wanted to come," Link murmured, raising his head to look Lucario dead in the eye. "I stood outside your door, fighting with myself... it took me this long to figure out something I already knew. And I know it's completely unjustified, but I want to be with y - "

The door of the roof-hatch banged open suddenly and Link and Lucario jolted apart reluctantly - their eyes flashed to the open shaft, widening at the sight of who came through.

Falco emerged first, his towel draped over his shoulders and staring apologetically directly at Link; Marth came next, winking at Link suggestively... and then Link practically swallowed his tongue. Marth extended a hand out behind him as he completed his climb to the roof and a white-gloved hand accepted his; a beautiful woman glided gracefully up the rest of the ladder, the ivory hem of her floor-length gown rustling with each step, the gold-encrusted sapphires decorating her shoulders and bodice glimmering in the cool starlight. Her face, framed by hair the color of chestnut, was as perfect and smooth as the most precious alabaster, set with two beautiful eyes, two pools of the most pristine turquoise -

"Zelda," Link breathed, the vice constricting around his throat as he attempted to choke out the name.

She smiled radiantly at him, quickly releasing Marth's hand as if to illustrate that she had absolutely no interest in him - there was movement on the ladder, and then Link's heart stopped.

Zelda wasn't alone. The woman who followed her up to the rooftop smiled at Marth's outstretched hand but did not take it, searching for Link's eyes instead; her unusual gray-cream skin was shrouded in ebony silk trimmed in rich golden filigree, revealing a shapely leg through a slit in the fabric with every step she took. She smiled at him with angular yet striking features, eyes like liquid rubies, her hair swirling in front of them like autumn leaves -

**NEWCOMER: MIDNA** _(2006 The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess)_

Link's eyes flashed from Midna, the breathtaking princess of the Twilight Realm, to Zelda, the awe-inspiring woman to whom he had devoted his entire life, to Lucario, the man he had been about to confess his feelings to and failed.

"Oh my God," was all he could manage to say.


	7. The One With the Jet Ski Jousting

Everyone was staring at Link, as if waiting for him to speak. All the Hylian wanted to do was figure out how to disappear into thin air. He glanced down at his damp chest. It looked as solid as it ever had, so vanishing was probably out of the question. It was time to start with the annoying cheerfulness that everyone seemed to think comprised his natural demeanor. When he raised his head, a dazzling smile was blazing on his face - only Falco, who knew him better than most, winced at the fakeness of it.

"Zelda! Midna! This is amazing! What are you two doing here?!"

He stood and clambered out of the jacuzzi; two sets of female eyes swept his body with open eagerness. The longing to disappear into nothingness washed over him again - Falco mercifully threw his own towel at the Hylian, who wrapped himself up in it at once.

"I was in the neighborhood, visiting Peach. It was her birthday a few days ago." Link felt his heart tear a little at hearing Zelda's voice: it was the sweetest sound to ever fill his ears, like honey and molten silver. "She mentioned Pit had shown up in the Mario Kart Grand Prix, and being naturally surprised I asked her about it. She told me that no small number of the universe's heroes were gathering by the lake, and that you were with them. I left at once. It really has been too long." She broke off suddenly, looking embarrassed, her eyes shining like stars; her obvious admiration of him made Link want to throw up for all the guilt it caused him.

"Midna?" Link was hearing his own voice as if from a great distance, as though someone else were speaking with a voice he was intimately familiar with. "What about you? I thought there was no way to exit the realm of Twilight when the mirror was put back together?"

Midna shrugged her shoulders; the motion sent a ripple through her semi-translucent ebony shroud, causing the garment to flow suggestively over her body. Link's mouth went abruptly dry, but the nausea remained. "Turns out if I really want to, I can break that damn mirror even from my home plane. Don't ask me how it happened... one minute I was in the realm of Twilight, and the next I was standing in Hyrule Field at dusk, trying to figure out how the hell I'd gotten there. Getting here was a cakewalk, really; I was picked up by a mercenary who told me you'd be here, and that he himself was heading this way pretty soon. I think his name was Fox-something."

"For the love of God, do NOT tell Wolf you ran into Fox," Falco interjected darkly, "OR that Fox is coming here. At least give me a day or two to pack up my shit and take off - that's one crossfire I'd sell my Arwing not to get caught in."

Midna shrugged her shoulders again as if it did not matter. "Wasn't planning on it."

"Excellent - you're a peach."

"Lay off, bird." Midna's eyes flashed with crimson fire.

Falco stretched, completely at ease. "Easy, honey, you're hot, but you're not my type. I don't date chicks who are more self-centered than I am."

Marth took a prudent step forward, shifting to keep the two apart as Midna glared almost tangible daggers at Falco and the ace-pilot grinned cockily back at her. Link wanted to tear out his hair and scream. Thankfully, Falco played merciful again and threw Link a life preserver in the form of, "So it's pretty late... we should probably find rooms for your guests, Link, and get them settled, shouldn't we?"

Link grasped at the prospect with fervent desperation. "Yeah, definitely. Zelda, Midna, where...?"

"Pit already dropped my things off down the hall from his room," Zelda admitted with a little smile that set Link's insides on fire. "We always got along quite well."

"I'm moving into the second floor," Midna informed him. "Wolf and I operate on a similar wavelength. It should be fine."

Marth ignored the ladder and leapt down the hatch to the third-floor hallway; Zelda and Midna glanced back at Link expectantly, waiting for him to join them. Falco was looking crestfallen behind their backs, apology apparent in his every feature, but all Link could think about was the nerves in his body with their strange magnetic pull for the creature sitting quietly in the jacuzzi behind him. He resolved to put one foot in front of the other, ignoring the pull, even though each step felt leaden with a heavy despair.

They all disappeared into the house together, leaving Lucario alone in the jacuzzi, his eyes dull and lifeless.

* * *

><p>"So THEN what happened?!" screeched Wolf, his voice shooting through two octaves as he asked this.<p>

"Well, I'm not sure..." Marth heaved a sigh and slumped down into the mountain of pillows in the far corner of Ike's bedroom, arms over his head, gazing thoughtfully at the ceiling. "But if I had to venture a guess I'd say that Link had an aneurysm. This isn't good, you guys."

"Not good?!" Ike sat up on the futon so fast that a little beer sloshed out of the bottle he held and onto his shirt. Marth wrinkled his nose. "What do you mean, 'not good'?! Link's almost twenty-five, and he's never been laid - it's his time, man! All he has to do is crack a smile and bam... he'll have them both in the sack. Probably at the same time."

The three of them were lounging in Ike's bedroom, Marth having dashed in there to find Ike and Wolf playing Gears of War only fifteen minutes ago, and the game had long since been forgotten; Marth had already relayed all of his information concerning Zelda and Midna's arrival, and now they were discussing the situation.

Marth swilled his white wine around its glass, staring solemnly at its contents. "I don't think it's that easy... for one thing, from the moment they walked in the door, there was a lot of animosity between them."

"What? Are you serious?"

"Oh yeah - impossible to miss. When I opened the front door they were leaning against opposite sides of the doorframe, looking in two completely different directions. Ask Falco, he was with me." Marth's frown deepened. "Not only that, but Link didn't look nearly as excited to see them as I figured he'd be. Sure he was surprised, and he looked pleased, but... I don't know. There was something else in his eyes... like regret, or disappointment. I probably just imagined it."

"How the fuck could he POSSIBLY be disappointed?!" squeaked Wolf, his voice almost indiscernable in its hysteria.

Ike slouched back onto the futon, drinking absentmindedly. "Dunno... if it was me, I would've nailed them both already."

Fireworks exploded in Marth's malevolent eyes; Ike wisely fell silent.

* * *

><p>Link dragged Falco into his bedroom by the wrist, Falco marveling silently at the vicelike pressure of Link's hand upon his arm. When the Hylian had slammed the door behind them he whirled to face Falco, his eyes mad, almost deranged.<p>

"What the FUCK," he shrieked in an inhuman voice, "am I supposed to do NOW?!"

The avian winced at the sheer volume of Link's voice and held up his hands as if to keep the Hylian at bay. "For starters, you could quit screaming at me like a twelve-year-old girl. I am NOT your older sister, and we are NOT at a Jonas Brothers concert."

Link's voice dropped a few decibels when next he spoke, but the hysteria still shone in his eyes. "This is an impossible situation, Falco! How do you expect me to keep my cool when there are THREE people up there who are all in love with me?!"

Falco rolled his eyes to the ceiling and shoved Link down onto his bed; the Hylian collapsed there, covering his head with his arms, but this act did not last long. Falco bent down and pried his arms away, forcing him to look at him, and put a stern edge in his voice. "Cut the waterworks, Link, or I'm gonna start comparing you to Pit. And if you sink that low, our friendship is OVER, dude." Link opened one bleary eye to regard Falco, and the avian took a small measure of relief and satisfaction when he noticed the eye glaring at him with loathing. "That's better. Now, first thing's first... don't confuse love and lust. Love is the strongest force I have ever seen at work, and I guarantee that if those three people were all in love with you the power of it would have leveled this house to the ground already, and all four of you would be dead. It's lust now, so all this is fixable. But you have to yank your head out of your ass if you want to patch this up."

"I was THIS CLOSE, Falco!" Link sprang back up into a sitting position, pinching his thumb and forefinger together to indicate an infinitessimal amount. "If I'd had two more syllables I'd have spilled my guts to Lucario! And now look..." Despair washed over Link again, instinctual and strong, quelling the madness and rage in an instant like a tidal wave. "It's hopeless. Who am I kidding? I don't even know who I am, much less what I want. How can I choose between them?"

Heaving a sigh Falco sat down next to the Hylian, flinging a gangly wing over his shoulders bracingly. "If you'd just calm down and think straight, you'd realize that you don't have to."

Link looked up. "I don't?"

"Not right away, at least. I know it doesn't look good - you were confessing yourself to Lucario, and suddenly there were two beautiful women at our doorstep demanding to see you. But if you think about it, did anyone actually flat-out say that they want you?"

Quite suddenly, Link felt like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum in front of a group of disapproving adults. "...Now that you mention it... no."

"Exactly." Falco's wing tightened in a kind of one-armed hug. "So until someone mentions otherwise, I'd treat them both the way you always have - like friends. You aren't responsible for making a move on anyone, so cool your jets, slow down, and get some perspective. And tell me... are you really gonna go for it with Lucario?"

Link's mind reeled. In the moment he had wanted nothing more than to confess his most private emotions to Lucario - here and now, safe in his bedroom and thinking clearly, Link realized that the idea petrified him. He slouched into Falco's arm, burying his face in his hands. "I don't know if I can now. The way I feel about him hasn't changed, but... everything else has. I still don't know who I am, or what I really want. Do I have to make all these decisions right away?"

Falco shook his head. "Nah. I'd slap the shit out of you if you tried. Ya gotta play it cool, my friend. Your heart will sort itself out on its own - be patient."

Link felt suddenly exhausted; when Falco retracted his arm the Hylian collapsed back onto his unmade bed, eyes half-closed already. The avian shook his head but smiled knowingly, and started retreating quietly from the room.

He was halted at the door by the sound of his name. "Falco?"

The avian turned back, his silhouette black against the light streaming through the open door from the hallway. "That's me."

"Thanks for everything. I think if I had to keep all this shit to myself I'd have killed myself by now."

"Don't mention it. Now shut your mouth and get some sleep, you loser."

* * *

><p>The moment the door was closed, Falco's facial features abruptly changed from quiet amusement to grim determination. Checking to make sure that the first floor hallway was utterly deserted, he turned and stole soundlessly up the stairs to the still-open roof-hatch.<p>

Lucario was frozen in the jacuzzi in precisely the same position he had been in for perhaps half an hour, staring blankly at the roiling surface of the steaming water, and seemed not to notice when Falco approached the hot tub in as non-threatening of a manner as he could manage. The avian didn't ask any questions, and the Pokemon made no protest, when Falco bent double and plunged his arms into the water, wrapping them around Lucario's slight body and lifting him from the hot water. Lucario's only reaction was to subconsciously turn his face and hide it in Falco's lithely muscled chest. Falco trod to the edge of the roof, glancing down first to make sure that no one lingered in the darkened driveway before stepping over the edge and falling the three stories to land gracefully in a kneeling position on the gravel below. The landing hardly jolted Lucario, who seemed oblivious to his surroundings.

It wasn't until Falco nudged the front door open with his hip and was padding down the stairs to the basement that Lucario's voice floated into his mind: _What are you doing?_

Falco maneuvered the blackened sublevel with ease. "Playing the middleman."

_I don't understand._

They turned one last corner into Lucario's pitch-black bedroom; Falco took careful steps forward until he felt the edge of the bed with his knees, then gently deposited Lucario onto it. "I know about you and Link. He told me everything a few days after it all happened."

The only thing visible in the inpenetrable darkness was Lucario's eyes, a dull orange in their sorrow. _I suppose that explains quite a bit._

"Look, it's bugging the shit out of me that I can't see anything, where's the goddamn lightswitch?"

Falco was feeling around blindly for a switch on the wall nearest the door when an electric-blue light stole through the room in the form of a slightly-crackling orb; the extension of Lucario's aura settled around a lightbulb beneath a lampshade on a bedside table, and Falco got his first glimpse of the Pokemon's bedroom. Almost everything in the room was a shade of blue that was very similar to Lucario's aura - the generic throw and pillows that decorated the moderately-sized day-bed, the wood of the bedside table, the lamp, the wispy, shroud-like curtains that caressed the small window - except the creamy-white color of the carpet and the paint that covered the walls. The bed had the look of a neglected place; Falco had a feeling that Lucario didn't sleep here, or didn't sleep at all.

"You doing okay?" Falco asked gently, and Lucario averted his eyes.

_I'm not sure. I am very confused... I feel as though I've lost someone, even though Link was never mine to lose_. Lucario's shoulders slumped and he slouched over, looking defeated. Falco had to admit that he was tired of seeing the people he cared about in so much pain.

"Not to trivialize your pain, Luca, but take what you're feeling and multiply it by about fifty. I guarantee that's how Link is feeling right now. So before you get it in your head that Link's the bad guy here, reconsider, okay? 'Cause if you start blaming him for this mess I'll plug you between the eyes, whether you're hurting or not."

When Lucario looked up after the avian's tirade, there was a shadow of his familiar eyes-only smile lingering around the softer lines of his face; Falco relaxed a little. _Of course you are right. He must be completely baffled... and of course I don't blame him. I do wish that the circumstances were a little more accomodating, though._

"Can't say that I blame you there. What are you gonna do now?"

Lucario heaved a sigh. _Try to sleep. Think things through. Even though I know where I stand I can see in Link's eyes that he hasn't made his peace with his alignment yet. I will wait._

Falco felt suddenly angry, overprotective of Link, and he took a small step forward. "'Made his peace'?! Luca, that kid doesn't know who he is, much less what he wants! Leave him be for a little while. His hormones are more out of control than Santa Claus on Prozac. At Disneyland. Getting laid." He felt a little pleased when his crude analogy ripped a laugh from Lucario's unwilling chest, and he retreated again for the door. "Sleep. We'll talk tomorrow."

He stepped into the hallway and pulled the door closed behind him without waiting for a reply, feeling very much like he needed to find Ike, Wolf, and Marth, and have a beer. Or several.

* * *

><p>It was like a classic stand-off in the kitchen.<p>

Pit, Meta Knight, Marth, Ike, Wolf, and Falco were all grouped around the kitchen table, eating the french toast and strawberry crepes that Kirby had happily bustled about cooking for them, silently watching the glares of undiluted hatred that Midna and Zelda cast in one another's directions. Midna had taken the last of the orange juice from the carton just as Zelda had been reaching for it; now the others were quietly and nervously awaiting the inevitable explosion this was certain to cause.

Zelda tucked a stray strand of golden-brown hair behind one ear with an exaggerated movement, seemingly determined not to lose her composure when she said, "I believe that was MINE, Midna."

"That's funny." Midna struck a pose, jutting out one hip as she re-adjusted her weight; Pit's mouth fell open, and Wolf smacked him across the back of the head with an oven mitt. "It seems to me that if this was YOURS, it would be in your glass right now. But oh look - it's in mine. Fancy that."

In an effort to keep herself from throttling Midna, they all supposed, Zelda clenched her hand upon the counter into a fist, in effect smashing a handful of hashbrowns without even noticing when she snarled, "Step off, bitch."

Midna slammed the glass of orange juice down on the counter so hard that not only did the drink fly everywhere, but the delicate place setting shattered on impact; the pieces of it scattered all over the counter and floor. Kirby, still at the stove in his giant floppy chef's hat, turned toward the pair of them and chattered angrily in his complicated language while brandishing a wooden spoon like a sword. Falco choked on his coffee and had to hide behind a napkin when the liquid started dribbling out of his nose.

"Bitch, huh?" Midna's eyes were filled with vindictive vengeance; she leaned toward the slightly-shorter princess threateningly. "So THAT'S how we're gonna play, slut?"

"I BEG your pardon?!" shrieked Zelda, and she tossed the shredded hashbrowns in Midna's direction. The Twilight princess gracefully sidestepped the fried potatoes with a smirk of superiority on her face; they smeared instead all over the refrigerator. Kirby's eyes narrowed into uncharacteristic slits of rage. "How is that insult even justifiable?!"

"I find it hard to believe that Ganondorf is constantly breaking into Hyrule Castle because he's just that smart." Midna's lovely face twisted into a wicked, almost ugly snicker. "Quit leaving your window open for him, honey. You have a rape complex - they have professionals who help with that sort of thing."

"Ooh... burn," whistled Marth.

"Take that back," growled Zelda, dropping into an almost catlike crouch and prowling one step nearer to Midna.

"Hey, I call it like I see it, Princess." Midna spat the last word like a disgusting expletive.

Wolf raised his hand, like a child in school asking the teacher a question. "Hey, listen - if you two are gonna fight, would you mind taking your shirts off first?"

"Or at least wait half a minute so I can get the Jell-O out of the fridge and throw it all over you?" added Ike hopefully.

"Can we not all eat like civilized people?" interjected Meta Knight, hopping down from his chair to stand between the two rival princesses. "You have already made a mess of Kirby's kitchen, after he worked so hard to cook this meal for all of us. Now you both owe him an apology, so get to it and then help him clean up this mess. Ignore each other if you must, but you will not act this way in our house. Learn how to be civil."

The smallest swordsman kept one hand upon the hilt of the sheathed Galaxia as he spoke; Zelda and Midna exchanged one last venomous glance before murmuring heartfelt apologies to Kirby and starting to clear away the broken glass, puddles of juice, and mounds of ruined hashbrowns. Meta Knight stole another crepe when Kirby wasn't looking and returned to his seat at the table.

"Well played, Meta," Falco congratulated, and he speared a bit of french toast on his fork and popped it into his mouth.

"Yeah, AWESOME job, Meta - you just ruined the bitch-fight of the century." Ike slumped back into his chair at the dining room table and poked miserably at his last remaining strawberry-covered crepe. "We should install a mud-pit in the backyard, get some good mud-wrestling matches going when it rains..."

"Did you ever see 'Old School'?" asked Wolf, downing the last of his milk and squirting ketchup all over his hashbrowns. "You get an inflatable kids' swimming pool and fill it with KY lube. It's WAY better than mud, believe me."

More than one person glanced curiously at the ex-Venomian mercenary, who continued shoveling down hashbrowns without notice; Midna, who had finished her portion of the cleaning at this point, shoved a chair between Wolf and Falco and sat down with a full plate of food, one eyebrow raised in wonder. Falco resolved to ask the obvious question for them. "Erm... I think I speak for everyone when I say that we'd LOVE to hear just how you gained this knowledge, Wolf."

"Come on, kid, you're a mercenary - you know better than the rest of these sheltered mama's boys that floating around in space waiting for your next mission gets real boring real fast."

"I think there's an interesting story in there," Marth pried.

"Oh, I think there's enough stories in there to pen a mediocre porn novel," corrected Midna.

A smirk curled the left half of Wolf's face in a roguish fashion. "Alright, you asked for it... So we hit this strip joint on Zoness on our way to rendezvous with Andross's primary legion in Area 6, and Leon says to me - "

Thankfully, at that precise moment, the front door swung open and they heard a female voice call, "Bongiorno!"

Pit leaped up and practically sprinted into the entryway to greet Rosalina; Wolf, Ike, Marth, and Falco all exchanged glances and shook their heads. "Great," began Falco, swilling his glass of cranberry juice around in his hand. "Rose is here. Four princesses in one house is four too many - what happened to this place being a summer bachelor pad?"

Midna had the look of someone who had just done some mental math, and she proved it by asking, "Where do you get four? There are only three here."

"He's counting Marth," Wolf offered knowingly between bites, and Marth's face reddened as the others laughed aloud.

Pit led Rosalina in and drew her a chair at the table; she thanked him before taking it gracefully. Zelda, helping Kirby at the stove, floated over and offered her a full plate, which she accepted. Midna rolled her eyes. "You know, in the Twilight realm, every Twili child learns how to wield a sword the moment they have the strength to lift one, and we skip the etiquette lessons."

Zelda turned to face Midna, a frying pan full of hashbrowns in one hand. "Do you think that, in Hyrule Castle, females in line for the throne are taught only how to behave? My father gave me personal instructions on swordplay."

"Yeah, those skinny little chicken arms of yours look in perfect condition for a battle," Midna sneered. Marth's and Meta Knight's eyes simultaneously traced the shapely but obviously honed contour of Midna's arms and didn't doubt that she was no novice with a sword.

"Is that a challenge?" growled Zelda, her hand tightening on the handle of the frying pan.

Midna laughed. "Heavens no - why would I waste thirty seconds fighting you when I already know the outcome? I'd rather save myself the time and effort, and save you the humiliation."

The escalating argument was interrupted when Link shuffled into the kitchen, and it was amazing just how dramatically the Hylian's presence altered both Zelda's and Midna's behavior; Zelda's scowl became a warm smile in the blink of an eye, and she took up a spatula and tipped some of the hashbrowns onto Link's empty plate. Midna's smirk of superiority rearranged into a quiet but mischevious smile, and turning back to the table she sipped daintily at her orange juice.

Marth, Meta Knight, Ike, Wolf, Pit, and Falco all rolled their eyes before Ike stated the blatantly obvious: "Link, buddy, you look like hell."

It was true; Link padded barefoot across the linoleum to sit alone at the breakfast bar, clad only in navy-blue athletic shorts and a white wife-beater - his eyes were dull and cheerless, his hair a disheveled mess. Had it been later than nine-thirty, Falco would have offered the man a beer, and then winced when he concluded that Link would probably accept it despite the earliness of the hour. It was clear that, despite his exhaustion, Link hadn't slept even for a minute.

"Yeah, I know. Last night was just such a pleasant surprise that all the excitement kept me up." Even Link was surprised at how easy the lie came to him. He dug ravenously into his crepes.

"So it looks like the clouds took off - " Marth glanced appreciatively out the floor-to-ceiling kitchen window and smiled at the cheerful sunshine, " - and it'll only be in the eighties today. What's the plan for this afternoon?"

For a moment Link was terrified that, somehow, all the planning would leave him alone with Zelda and Midna - fortunately, that wound up not being the case when Ike piped up, "I wanna get out on the lake. Boat rentals are free for seasonal tenants, and the boat slip isn't even a mile away."

"How does he know that?" Falco whispered to Marth.

The exiled prince cracked a smile. "The boat slip just happens to be right next to the liquor store."

Wolf was using his fork to draw squiggles in the last of the ketchup on his plate. "That's not a bad idea, actually... We could take a cooler down to the docks, maybe snag a couple of inner tubes..."

"You interested?" Pit asked Rosalina, and she smiled whimsically and nodded once.

"I'm in," Falco agreed, standing up to wash his dishes at the sink. "Meta? Kirby? Link?"

Meta Knight shrugged as though bored with the proceedings, though the shrug seemed as close to an acceptance as they could ever hope for. Kirby chattered some response at Falco that seemed cheerful enough - and was therefore probably a 'yes', they assumed - and Link, relieved that he wasn't being forced to do anything more taxing than lounge about on the lake all day, agreed at once. No one was the least bit surprised when Midna and Zelda hastily agreed barely a second after Link had made his decision.

"So let's clean up the kitchen and get going," said Ike, rising from his chair with a stretch and gathering his breakfast dishes. "I'll head up to the boat slip ahead of you guys, see what they've got available - "

"Uh, Ike?" interrupted Marth carefully, glancing around the kitchen in an almost alarmed fashion. "Um... before you make too many plans, we're missing someone."

Link's eyes turned down to his plate, the contents of which no longer seemed at all appetizing. He had known from the moment he set foot in the kitchen that Lucario was not among them.

"Is he still asleep?" Pit wondered aloud.

Meta Knight was shaking his head before Palutena's chosen emissary had even finished his question. "No, he can't be, he's usually one of the first of us to wake up..."

"Who are we talking about?" Midna did a quick scan of the kitchen. "The Pokemon? Lucario?" She turned directly to face Link when she asked, "Maybe he's not feeling well... should we check on him?"

"No, no, I'm sure he's fine," Falco broke in hurriedly, returning to the dining room table and gathering several half-empty carafes of juice before shoving them haphazardly back into the refrigerator. "Some of us had a rough brawl yesterday, and he was up kinda late, he's probably just recuperating... So! The lake, then?"

They all worked together to clean up Kirby's immaculate kitchen - feeling guilty, probably, for the mess and ruckus their two new visitors had made - before going their separate ways; Ike headed up the gravel road to the boat slip with Wolf on his heels (the two seemed to be becoming good friends, which worried a lot of people), Meta Knight, Marth, and Kirby filled two coolers full of ice and the last of the alcohol and hauled both out the back door, down the patio steps, across the yard, and down to the lake's edge, and Zelda and Midna, of course, waited until Link was ready and insisted on walking down to the shore with him. Passing him in the hallway, Pit thought Link had plastered a good enough expression of stoicism on his face.

Pit led Rosalina into the driveway, where her MKGP bike was parked among the plethora of vehicles the others owned, to check the bike's fluid levels before she made the journey back into the Mushroom Kingdom - they found Falco, flat on his back beneath his own bike, tools in hand.

"Something wrong with your bike, Falco?"

The avian sat up, careful not to hit his head on the bike's underside, and wiped his greasy hands clean on a rag laying near a pile of tools. "Not a thing. It's just not fit to be used as a racing cycle, so I'm making a few modifications."

Rosalina understood at once - an enchanted smile lit up her face - but Pit was a little slower to the punch. Running his hand through his overlong chestnut curls he asked, "You gonna start racing, Falco?"

The mercenary laughed out loud, and Rosalina joined in with a tinkling sound like wind chimes. "No, you great moron, it's for you. I started a few days ago. Give me a few more and you'll be back on the track."

Pit stared back at Falco for a long time, disbelieving, and then slowly walked a circle around the half-finished motorcycle. The avian had done a very detailed paint job; the tire guards were midnight blue fading into sea green and then white with stars dotting every surface. He laughed when he got to the rear. Stamped across the tiny license plate was a sticker that read, "I Only Break For Palutena". When Pit looked back at Falco the angel's eyes were overbright with emotion.

"...I can't believe you would do this, Falco, it's amazing. I love it. I'd be proud to race it in the Mario Kart Grand Prix."

Falco stacked all the tools and wrapped them up in the rag with a laugh. "It's no problem. But don't get emotional on me, or I'll kick your ass."

Pit smiled at Falco's back.

* * *

><p>Link knew he was in trouble the moment he tried to peel his shirt off without drawing attention.<p>

He had waded into the lake shallows and waited until everyone seemed to be otherwise engaged; Wolf had come roaring down the lake at the helm of a flashy Cobalt, Ike tearing after him on the back of a Sea-Doo jet ski, and now everyone else was bobbing about in the water, laughing and joking. Except, of course, for Midna and Zelda, who had thrown towels on the lakeshore and were now making the most of the rays of golden sunshine. He cleverly waited until the two women had descended into yet another argument, and then ever-so-slowly removed the garment -

But it was no good. The moment it had come free over his head and he stood waist-deep in the water, holding it sheepishly at his side, the argument abruptly ceased and both Zelda and Midna had taken to staring at him as though he were a particularly delectable side of meat.

The desire to disappear into thin air grew stronger than it had the night previous, and suddenly Link wished he weighed five hundred pounds instead of his lean, muscular one-sixty.

It was at that precise moment that something nailed him in the side of the head and sent him reeling. The Nerf football landed next to him with a little splash, and recovering it he turned to glare at the one who had thrown it. Falco was laughing a few hundred feet away.

"Sorry, dude! I overthrew Pit a little on that one, my bad."

It was a lie, of course - Falco had interrupted on Link's behalf, as always - but Link accepted the negligible ache in his temple in stride and gratefully waded away to join his friends. As an afterthought he tossed his shirt onto the pile of various clothing on the lakeshore, hoping against hope that the women watching him wouldn't fight over it.

Kirby was zipping around the lake on the jet ski, howling with cherubic laughter, and Ike and Marth were arguing about something just out of earshot with Meta Knight listening solemnly at their sides. Wolf lounged on an inner tube, a beer in his hand; Link jerked his head in Marth and Ike's direction, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. "What's with them?"

Falco couldn't stifle his laughter. "Ike, er, cooked up an interesting idea for a game..."

"Should I run?"

"Definitely. He wants to head back to the marina and snag another jet ski so we can have jet ski jousting competitions. Marth is trying to talk him out of it, of course, but girls seldom win fights with jocks."

Pit juggled the football back-and-forth in his hands. "Someone could get seriously hurt here, you know..."

"No shit," laughed Falco helplessly, watching the mercenary and the ex-prince at their banter. "Try decapitated, or disemboweled. Ike obviously didn't go to college - where does he get these shitfaced ideas? Does he have a book or something? Did Hannibal Lecter write it?"

Above Pit's hysterical laughter Link asked, "Did YOU go to college?"

Falco looked smug. "Technically, yeah. Got my degree over the internet through the Corneria Technological Institute. Major and two minors."

Link sensed weakness. "In...?"

"Major in aircraft repair, minors in criminal justice and fashion design."

"FASHION?!" The Hylian sputtered incoherently and almost fainted into the water. "As in, like, designing clothes and shit?!"

He had to admire the avian; while he and Pit relentlessly teased him for several minutes, Falco just smiled to himself and kept his beak high with pride. When they had finally calmed down he fixed them with seriousness in his eyes and confirmed, "Yeah, like designing clothes and shit. It was a few years between wars - we were docked in Zoness at the time, and an old friend of mine said I had the perfect style and body to model at the biggest agency on the planet. I needed a job. The line was gothic. I have an eye for that kind of thing."

"W-o-w," breathed Pit, exaggerating the word into three separate syllables. "You, a model?"

Link didn't quite share the angel's disbelief when he turned his practiced eye onto the avian; Falco was tall and gangly, not in a nerdy way but in a kind of almost unhealthy male supermodel way. He had been that way ever since the Hylian himself had known him... he could easily picture Falco in such a setting.

Their conversation was ended suddenly when Marth and Meta Knight waded toward them - Marth was grinding his teeth together in apparent frustration. Ike, they noticed, was headed up the lake toward the marina again, with Kirby bouncing along gleefully in his lap.

"Lose the fight, did ya?" asked Falco loftily, elbowing the surly Marth in the ribs when he had moved close enough.

Marth glared at the avian darkly, clearly not in the mood for his light-heartedness. "I would be first in line to play this game if we were using Funoodles or something, but he insists on using swords. And no armor."

There was silence among the group, broken only when Falco muttered, "Your boyfriend has a fucking death wish."

"What do you care?" snarled Marth, clenching his fists at his sides. "You don't have a sword. You don't have to play."

"None of you have to play this suicidal game if you just had the balls to say no, but most of you seem to be balls-less these days." Falco crossed his slender wings over his chest and smirked all around. "Pit gave his to Rosalina... Marth gave his to Marth... and Link, I'm pretty sure Zelda and Midna each have one of yours over there." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, where inevitably, it seemed, the two princesses were squabbling again. "That just leaves Meta Knight here. You gonna take on Ike, shorty?"

"My size is not a factor in this matter," Meta Knight corrected with a growl, "and yes, of course I am."

"Nice balls, then."

"My thanks."

Pit blinked into Falco's smirking face and said, "I'm not sure there's ever an appropriate time for a guy to compliment another guy's... stuff."

Meta Knight had started bobbing away at the sound of approaching jet skis; Falco was already wading after him when he shouted over his shoulder, "It is if the ballsiest guy here is about to take on a dude five times his size!"

Link shrugged his shoulders in defeat. "It's true, you know."

Pit was hanging his head in shame. "I know."

Ike skirted into view on the jet ski they had originally rented, only a few seconds ahead of Kirby, who came blazing around the bend on another one just like it. The former mercenary cut the engine just a few feet away from Meta Knight, who was bobbing along and gazing up at him in a menacing manner. "What's this? Gonna play, Meta?"

"I will be taking you to the emergency room in a few minutes," the smallest swordsman promised.

Marth leaned toward Link and, very softly, whispered, "Do you think we should play?"

Link was undecided. He was still seething from Falco's jab at his manhood, and realized that Marth must be feeling the same if he was asking at all. They had already agreed that this was one of the most ridiculous ideas any of them had ever come up with, but were they really prepared for the jokes that would follow if they refused to play?

"I think it's more a question of which we would rather endure - being razzed for the rest of the summer, or being... dead," Link admitted honestly.

"He'll be impossible to live with if I refuse," Marth concluded with a sigh, and he turned and began wading back to the lakeshore, where jumbled up with his clothing lay his sword belt. "I'd rather lose my head than my dignity."

"The little dignity he's got left," Pit snorted so only Link could hear, and the Hylian gritted his teeth and followed Marth to the bank.

Kirby tugged Meta Knight out of the water and onto the seat of the water craft before launching himself into the lake like a very small cannonball; a flash of gold in the sun caught Meta Knight's eye as Marth tossed him his sword and he caught Galaxia in mid-air, wielding it before him with a grim-faced smile. Ike looked over his shoulder at Wolf, who was still lounging, half-asleep, in an inner tube, beer in one hand, sunglasses covering his eyes. "Wolf! Rules?"

"I'm not playing your kamikaze sword-game," called the reclining lupine, taking a swig of his drink. "You make the damn rules."

Ike laughed aloud. "You're unarmed, you know."

"...Ok shit, you're right. Ok... rules. Erm... jet skis at a hundred paces... ish... one match only... oh, and, er, probably just use the flat of the blade. If I have to leave the lake just because there's blood in the water, I'll be pretty pissed off."

"Fair enough!" Ike snickered at Meta Knight, who looked bored, as usual. "You heard the man - a hundred paces."

They revved their jet skis and took off in opposite directions - Link and Marth joined Falco, Pit, and Kirby at a safe distance, swords balanced easily on their shoulders. On the bank, Zelda and Midna had ceased their arguing.

"Think they'll live?" Link asked Falco in trepidation.

The avian shrugged, watching closely as both swordsmen whipped their jet skis about to face one another. "Well... one of them probably will, at least."

Link swallowed hard; Kirby offered a little despairing wail.

Across the lake, Ike first made certain that he was perfectly balanced on the slick seat and that his grip was tight upon the hilt of Ragnell before calling out, "You ready, Meta?"

"At your leisure," the Halberd captain shouted back, catching the sunlight upon Galaxia's serrated blade.

And they gunned the engines of their jet skis and charged forward.

No one had the strength to move, or even speak, in the several lightning-fast seconds that passed before the two were close enough to strike out at one another; Link wasn't sure he still had the ability to speak, and Marth was certain he'd swallowed his tongue. But they all saw clearly what transpired - Ike heaved his sword up with one burly arm, preparing to swing it down, at the same moment that Meta Knight swung his much-smaller blade out wide in an arc.

The jet skis roared past one another and the engines both died; Ike dropped his arm to his side and clutched at his shoulder with his free hand. The skin was already bruising. "God damn he's fast."

The others breathed a collective sigh of relief, suddenly feeling much better about the situation; Meta Knight wheeled about, looking superior (or so they thought, for he had refused to remove his armor even in the water). "Who is my next victim?"

"Actually, Meta, if you don't mind, I'd like to take your place. I think Ike has a valuable lesson to learn." All set of eyes grew to incredulous sizes and turned to regard Marth, whose eyes were fixed resolutely upon Ike. The former mercenary looked perfectly baffled.

Meta Knight seemed not to mind. "By all means."

He steered the jet ski into more shallow waters and allowed Marth to lift him from the seat and deposit him gently in the water; the exiled prince clambered onto the back of the waverunner and straddled the seat rather clumsily before accepting his sword from Link. He then brushed several strands of dampened blue-green hair out of his eyes and veered north, the opposite direction from where Ike waited, and when he was set the larger swordsman hefted Ragnell onto his shoulder like a baseball bat and laughed. "Is this some kind of joke?"

Marth sent Falchion through a series of elaborate passes and swings off to the side, barely skimming the lake's shimmering surface with each maneuver, and despite the time he had spent away from the blade the combinations looked easy and natural. "Of course not. I thought I'd take this shining opportunity to humiliate YOU for a change."

Ike's eyes narrowed - he never took insults well, and had a very short temper besides. "Prince, you'd better hope you at least unseat me from this thing, otherwise I'll make you regret it."

"Is that a threat, or a promise?" Marth chuckled darkly, and he spurred the waverunner forward into a sudden spurt of speed. Ike followed suit only a moment later.

"Marth looks like he means business," Pit muttered beneath his breath, his hands covering his mouth in anxiety.

"Hey, if he wants to prove that he really DOES have balls, more power to him," laughed Falco.

Marth leaned forward, pressing his bare upper torso against the handlebars of the jet ski, squinting against the wind as it buffeted his face and the millions of droplets of lake water that flew up in the craft's wake. It was no secret that Ike was far stronger than he was, but Marth was much faster... he had to use that trait to his advantage, or he would probably be eating Ragnell's cruel blade for lunch. He shifted his weight, in effect changing the craft's course ever-so-slightly, and took up Falchion in both of his hands.

Despite the throbbing of his shoulder from where the flat of Galaxia's blade had struck him, Ike brandished Ragnell without complaint and prepared to strike his oncoming opponent with at least enough force to knock him out cold.

Twenty feet... Ten feet...

Ike lashed out, laughing when he saw that Marth was merely holding his blade and hadn't prepared an attack. His laughter was cut short a moment later when Falchion snapped up into a magnificent two-handed parry that sent Ike reeling off-balance to the other side; in the same instant Marth spun the blade around in his dominant hand and lashed the weapon's blunt end across Ike's exposed chest.

The force of the second blow was more than enough to send Ike flying from the waverunner and into the churning lake waves. Marth cut the engine, his blade held aloft, looking victorious as the others erupted into laughter and cheers.

Ike resurfaced a few seconds later looked dazed and embarrassed, but more importantly rubbing his chest. "Holy SHIT that stung..."

The others waded (or swam, in Meta Knight and Kirby's case) in Ike's direction to inspect the damage and were not disappointed by what they saw - an angry purple swelling had already sprung up on Ike's chest, spanning from right-side ribcage to left-side armpit in the exact shape of Falchion's slender but sturdy blade. Pit and Kirby glanced up at Marth with blatant admiration; the slender ex-prince snickered down at Ike, who was gazing at him perplexedly.

"Is that the first time you've lifted that thing in, what, a month?" complained the mercenary, the hint of a whine in his voice, and Marth laughed.

"Almost two. Don't worry - I'll make you feel better later."

Marth offered Ike a suggestive wink for his trouble; the others just shook their heads. The laughter shifted into the realm of uncomfortable.

"Well, Marth," Link began, lifting the Master Sword up before his eyes to admire its unrivaled craftmanship, "if you can do this, then I sure as hell - "

He was interrupted by a voice wafting up from behind them, in the direction of the lakeshore: "What the HELL is wrong with you guys?! Are you TRYING to kill each other?!"

They turned as a group to regard Zelda, who had leapt up from her towel and stalked a couple of steps nearer to the lake's edge; more than one pair of eyes swept hungrily over her delicate body in its pastel pink one-piece bathing suit. Link was stunned; it was the first time he'd heard her use a word as explicit as 'hell', and that was saying something. She placed her hands on her slight hips and leaned toward them accusingly, clearly displeased. "Stop this NOW, before someone is seriously injured!"

To no one's surprise Midna was the one to argue, but even that basic knowledge didn't prepare any of them for her retort. She pushed herself up onto her elbows and crossed her legs at the ankle, squinting against the sunlight into Zelda's face when she said, "Lighten up, honey, boys will be boys, you know. Don't tell me you don't think this looks like a teensy bit of fun?"

Zelda's head snapped down and to one side to regard Midna with abject fury. "NO, I most certainly do not!"

"Well, I do." This time Midna rose to her feet, and the eyes that had been caressing Zelda's body now shifted their focus; the Twilight princess was a bit more scantily clad, wearing a bikini made of some sheer blood-red material that barely concealed her skin. "I don't suppose one of you boys would lend little old me a sword so I could give it a try?"

Pit's, Ike's, and Link's mouth all fell open in amazement; still astride his jet ski Marth dropped Falchion into the water with a plunk. Falco slapped one hand over his face as Kirby uttered a baffled "ooooo" sound; Meta Knight was the only one who spoke. "You are not serious, of course."

Midna took a step closer to the lake's edge, then another, until she was wading toward them, a tiny smirk curling one side of her lips. Link couldn't believe how out of hand Ike's stupid game was getting. "Sure I am! Come on, I just need a sword..."

She seemed displeased when Link halfheartedly offered the Master Sword to her, first sniffing the blade carefully and then wrinkling her nose at it, then shook her head when Meta Knight held out Galaxia; Ike was just resurfacing when she turned to face him, and her eyes settled upon Ragnell with some measure of approval while the mercenary handed Falchion back to Marth. "That one will do just fine, I guess."

Ike looked over at her, and then at Ragnell, with dawning comprehension. "Which one? Mine?"

"Yep." Midna held out one slender hand for it. "Hand it over, meathead."

He would've scowled at her, but it took a lot for a woman to irritate Ike and so instead he merely shrugged and offered it to her. They were all certain that the massive sword would prove unwieldy to the slight princess, but were surprised again when she balanced it easily in both hands. Ike pushed his floundering waverunner upright and shoved it in Midna's direction, and she mounted it easily before turning to Marth.

The exiled prince looked simply terrified at the prospect of not just fighting a woman, but fighting a woman who was undoubtedly much tougher than he was. His voice came out as little more than a squeak: "...You want to fight ME?"

"Why not? You seem ready enough." And without waiting for a reply she swung the nose of the jet ski around and paced off in the other direction. Marth stared after her in disbelief for a moment longer, then realized he had no choice but to comply.

Wolf, whom they all thought had nodded off in the sun, sat up straighter and pushed his sunglasses onto his brow, watching Marth and Midna interestedly. Kirby hopped up into Link's arms and hid his face in the Hylian's damp chest, whimpering all the while.

The two jet skis turned slowly to face one another. Midna was looking rather devilishly at Marth, whose face was chalky pale as he gazed back.

"Don't worry, Marth!" Ike called through snorts of laughter. "I'll make you feel better later!"

Marth managed to flash his middle finger in Ike's direction before Midna's jet ski roared to life and she sped toward him, laughing insanely all the while. Marth floored his water craft's accelerator and shot forward, though with decidedly less gusto.

When Midna was in range Marth swung Falchion in a rather lackluster fashion - it was a strike that Midna easily dodged simply by leaning back in the seat. She didn't even bother to swing Ragnell - she could lift it, but swinging it would have been another story entirely -, deciding instead to go for a more direct approach; squeezing the seat between her thighs for extra support she leaned out in Marth's direction, holding the sword hilt-first in her dominant hand, and bashed Marth square in the nose with it.

Marth went limp and somersalted off the back-end of the waverunner, which went skittering off across the lake before toppling over. Midna's laugh of utmost pleasure had a dark edge to it that made the rest of the men shiver uncontrollably. Zelda's eyes flashed with fires of disapproval, and she sat back down on her towel with a huff.

Link launched himself forward into a breaststroke, reaching Marth in mere seconds and hoisting the man out of the water - it was a good thing he had, because the poor ex-prince was unconscious, and had been floating face-down. He waited for Ike to reach him before he headed for the shore; Ike cast one glare of purest loathing in Midna's direction before hoisting Marth's prone body into his arms and heading toward the house.

"Well, I think that's probably enough of THAT game for one day," Falco pointed out. "Midna, I don't suppose you want to follow me back to the marina with that jet ski? Wolf, can you get up long enough to drive the Cobalt back?"

Falco dog-paddled out to the over-ended waverunner and pushed it upright, then heaved himself onto the back and settled into place before heading back up the lake toward the boat slip. Wolf paddled briskly, still in his inner tube, back to where the unused boat bobbed lazily; Midna followed Falco around the bend, Ike's sword still clutched in one hand.

Pit, Kirby, and Meta Knight dashed up the beach and through the yard after Ike, leaving Link and Zelda to gather the other's clothes and gear, which was still piled pell-mell on the edge of Zelda's towel.

"Do you think Marth will be alright?" Zelda pressed worriedly, and Link forced a smile for her benefit.

"He'll be lucky if his nose isn't broken, but other than that he'll be fine. Let's go check on him."

Marth didn't come to until Wolf, Falco, and Midna had completed the walk back to the house from the marina, and when he did the first thing he did was pinch his nose to stop the renewed bleeding and said, "Most fun I've ever had getting the shit kicked out of me by a girl."

They all shared a laugh, Ike looking quite relieved; Falco shook his head and meandered into the kitchen for a beer. A slip of torn paper on the otherwise clean kitchen counter caught his eye as he was turning toward the refrigerator, and with a little frown he picked it up.

It was an address, written in an immaculate hand he recognized to be Lucario's:

_529 East 13th Street  
>6 miles off Toad's Turnpike<br>Mushroom Kingdom Province, Bullet End_

Falco swallowed hard. Not only did he recognize the handwriting, he knew the residence the address described.

The Shadow.

"Oh hell," he murmured tersely, and he raced back into the sitting room, forgetting his beer completely.

* * *

><p>He waited until he was certain the others had all vacated the house in favor of the lake, then Lucario padded noiselessly upstairs and headed straight for the kitchen, rummaging through the cupboards until he came up with the object he had been searching for - the phone book.<p>

He skimmed through the business listings in silence, still not sure he was making the right decision, but before he could talk himself out of it the entry for the Shadow, techno nightclub and bar, leaped out at him from the page he was perusing. Automatically he reached for a pen and tore a scrap of paper from the closest document he could reach and penned the address carefully in his meticulous hand. As an afterthought he tore a second slip and wrote it again, leaving that copy behind him on the counter for the others. Surely an evening at a nightclub would seem the perfect end to the perfect day out on the lake, he supposed.

Outside, he had no choice but to reverse his sportscar through the front lawn to maneuver around Ike's Jeep, the Dragoon, Falco's bike-in-shambles, and a cute little silver Porsche he assumed belonged to Zelda. When he reached Toad's Turnpike (the highway that led into the heart of the Mushroom Kingdom Province), he stomped his paw down on the accelerator, rolled the windows down, and lowered a sleek pair of black sunglasses down over his troubled eyes.

The night had passed him by without a wink of sleep, and the day promised to be no different. Lucario had waited several hours in his bedroom, expecting Link to come and speak with him about what had happened at least, and had found nothing but disappointment when the Hylian had done nothing. He was probably out on the lake with his two female admirers, Lucario thought with a pang of acute jealousy, and subconsciously he pushed harder on the accelerator. The needle on the speedometer inched past ninety.

How had this happened? They had been so close... Lucario was certain that Link had been mere words away from making a life-altering confession to him, and now everything was chaos. Zelda and Midna arriving had sent Link's life into turmoil, certainly - Lucario didn't doubt that - but there was no excuse for the cold shoulder the Hylian had turned Lucario's way today. Rather than wait around for Link to make up his mind, Lucario had decided to go and speak personally with Toshi, the man who had begged Falco to send Lucario to him, the man who was obviously intimately familiar with Lucario's music.

The highway raced past him - Lucario, one hand on the steering wheel, one hand propped upon the open window, hardly noticed it.

A drive that should have taken twenty minutes took Lucario, in his hurry to put as many miles between him and Brawlers Mansion as possible, barely half that. Before he knew it he was standing across the street from the most impressive nightclub he had ever seen - the Shadow, a two-story establishment with walls painted dark as midnight and windows tinted to an almost identical hue.

He crossed the street and went inside.

The lights were up, something that only happened during the day in any respectable nightclub, and there were only two people moving about. One was a man with his back to the door, checking sound equipment up on the stage - the other was a woman behind the bar, rearranging bottles, and she looked up when the door shut quietly behind Lucario.

Lucario couldn't help being struck by the sight of her, a natural reaction to an exceptionally beautiful woman, he knew. She was of average height, but that was the certainly the only thing average about her; her skin was an almost luminous shade of alabaster, her hair long and straight, the palest shade of blonde that seemed almost silver. She had the look of a woman toughened by several years worth of working in a bar, but at the same time she was slender and graceful in her own right; over her shapely curves she wore a pair of dark blue cutoff jean shorts, knee-high black combat boots with five buckles each, and a form-fitting black t-shirt with the album art from a band he instantly recognized as Bullet For My Valentine, cut to reveal the slightest bit of cleavage.

**NEWCOMER: VICTORIA "VICK" RALIS** _("A Bar of Soap!" original character)_

"Doors don't open to the general public until ten p.m.," she told him, turning to fully face him, an enormous bottle of Jack Daniels in one hand. "Though I'd love a hand getting all this shit organized before then - you got the time, by any chance?"

Lucario smiled - or, at least, he hoped she saw it in his eyes - and padded a few steps closer. It wasn't until he was just on the other side of the bar that he registered the unusual color of her eyes - silver-gray, like a stormy day. _It would be my pleasure - however, I am here for a reason. I am here to see a man called Toshi; he expressed an interest in me to a friend of mine and I have come to discuss business with him._

Her face softened at once; she replaced the bottle on one of many shelves behind her and came forward again, leaning against the bar with a welcoming smile. "You're the synth player? What's your name - Lucario? Toshi hasn't shut up about you since he ran into Falco last week. He was afraid you weren't going to call, or come by." She cocked her head toward the man on the stage, who was still fiddling with a handful of wires. "That's him over there, probably ruining all your equipment. For the love of God, go and stop him before he blows this place up."

His smile widened; she was likeable and inviting, and her natural charisma eased his troubles. _I will. Thank you, er - ?_

"Vick." She held out her hand, and he shook it gratefully. "Vick Ralis. Head bartender."

_Thank you, Vick._ Lucario smiled at her once more, an expression she returned wholeheartedly, before making his way away from the bar, across the spacious dance floor, and up to the stage where Toshi was working.

Toshi was not at all what Lucario had been expecting, a short, nervous-looking man with wide eyes and a bald spot on top of his head, but he seemed nice enough when he straightened up and said, "I had a professional technician in here a couple of days ago to make sure everything was in perfect working order, in the off-chance you decided to come by yourself, Mr. Lucario! I can't tell you what an honor it is to meet you officially. I frequented La Vida during your last summer mixing there."

_The pleasure is all mine,_ said Lucario sincerely, and they shook hands. _I'm sorry to just drop by without notice -_

"Not at all, dear boy, not at all - "

_- But I needed to get away and thought this was as good a locale as any._ Lucario's eyes strayed inevitably to the soundboard and turntables, and Toshi's anxious face cracked a smile. _I don't mean to be rude, but... may I?_

"Certainly!" exclaimed Toshi, looking positively thrilled at the prospect. "By all means!"

Lucario crested the seven stairs to the lofted stage where the synthesizer equipment was confined and checked the volume levels, all of which were, as Toshi had promised, in perfect working order and had obviously been recently set by a professional. He slowly re-familiarized himself with the intricate machinery, carefully touching the turntables without making any sound, adjusting the synth board to his liking, before plunking a pair of headphones over his ears and getting started.

He uploaded a bass beat first, smiling to himself when the sound resonated loudly within his own chest, and then integrated several sounds together to create a complex harmony, melody, and counter-melody on top of it. The process of creating the tune took little more than forty-five seconds; Toshi's eyes were wide as he listened, oblivious to the fact that he was standing directly in front of a pounding speaker, and behind the bar Vick had stopped tidying up to watch.

His smile widened as he improvised, adding more eclectic sounds upon the basic structure, and continued to play for at least twenty minutes uninterrupted before turning off the lines of music one by one. When silence had descended utterly upon the nearly-empty bar, Lucario removed his headphones and turned his gaze toward Toshi, wondering if the man would ever speak again.

Toshi's eyes were shining with obvious appreciation. "You are a prodigy, Mr. Lucario. I would be honored if you would play here regularly! I will pay whatever you wish - name your price!"

"You never told ME to name a price," called Vick, rolling her eyes to the ceiling, balancing four different brands of bottled vodka in her arms, and Lucario laughed.

_What were you paying your last synthesist?_ inquired the aura guardian.

Toshi's face fell. "Twelve dollars an hour, Mr. Lucario, but I insist upon more. A musician of your talent deserves far more... shall we say... thirty?"

Lucario's eyes widened, but he shook his head. _Twenty will suffice, Toshi; I do not wish this to be an unfair business arrangement. You are doing me a favor by offering me this position, and I will not rob you._

Toshi waved a hand negligently at Lucario's comment. "This nightclub does remarkable business every week - it is not a question of money. Twenty-five, then, and I refuse to pay any less. Having you here is a priviledge."

He could see that Toshi, perhaps a pushover by nature, would not waver on this decision; Lucario heaved a sigh. _We have a deal, then. When can I begin?_

"Why, whenever you - "

Lucario leapt at the opportunity. _Tonight?_

The bar owner looked flabbergasted but wouldn't have dreamed of refusing. "Of course! It is currently - " He took a moment to check his watch. " - Just past six. Doors open to the general public, as I'm sure Vick has already informed you, at ten p.m. sharp, and we close at six a.m. Please talk with Vick between now and then, as this is not your average nightclub and no one knows the nightly routine better than she. There is much more for you to learn than which songs to perform!"

Toshi flashed another appreciative (albeit nervous) smile before bustling away about his business. Lucario trod across the dance floor again and edged behind the bar to help Vick.

She was smiling widely at him before he had even taken up his first bottle. "Don't worry about that, DJ Luca - you sit, I'll talk. Here's what ya gotta know - ya might wanna write all this down."


	8. The One Where Lucario is a Techno DJ

On a Friday night, The Shadow was packed to maximum capacity barely half an hour after the doors opened to the general public. Falco, driving Ike's Jeep, made only one circle around the techno nightclub before giving the immediate parking lot up as a lost cause; in the end the two cars they had taken from Brawlers Mansion wound up parked in a McDonald's lot some eight blocks away from their destination. Lucario's car was nowhere to be seen.

Ike was irritated the moment he clambered out of the Jeep's passenger seat. "Did you see the line waiting to get in?! Wrapped around the fucking building! It winds down Commercial Street almost two blocks! It'll be two a.m. before we get in. I told you we should've come earlier!"

Falco slammed the driver's side door behind him, adjusting his clothes as he offered the former mercenary a negligent shrug. "It won't make any difference; I can get us in ahead of the crowd. If Lucario's really here, Toshi will be thrilled to see me. So cool your jets."

Marth stumbled out of the back of Ike's beat-up Jeep, then turned to help Midna out behind him; she took his hand, but not before rolling her eyes as though annoyed. Ike sized up Falco's clubbing attire one last time before bursting into laughter and stammering between chuckles, "You… look… ridiculous!"

This was debatable, thought Link, wandering around the side of Zelda's Porsche with Wolf, Pit, Rosalina, and Zelda in time to catch Ike's comment. The knowledge that Falco had earned a college minor in fashion design had seemed ludicrous earlier that day, but seeing the avian decked out in gothic threads for their evening away from the mansion definitely made the claim more credible; he wore baggy black cargos adorned with great silver buckles and chains over a pair of heavy-duty combat boots, a fitted leather trench-coat over a mesh-netted tank top, and sleek black sunglasses perched high upon his beak. The Lylatian mercenary would look quite at home in The Shadow, Link supposed… if their group ever got in. Pit was smiling at Falco admiringly, as though wishing he could pull off wearing such a bold ensemble; Marth, standing to the left and slightly behind Ike, was studying the avian interestedly every few seconds. Wolf noticed this and barely suppressed a laugh.

"Whatever," said Falco dismissively, and shoving Ike's keys in one oversized pocket of his cargo pants he led them up the street. "I'll get hit on before you will, you fashion-challenged neanderthal."

"Don't count on it, vulture," Ike fired back without hesitation, but he looked concerned enough that Wolf's laughter intensified, and the others joined in.

Bullet End was a refreshing change of atmosphere compared to the peaceful seclusion of their summer home; the streets were dark—not in an unfriendly, run-down way, but in a downtown midnight hot-spot kind of way—and music pulsed from several locales as they passed them. The night wasn't uncomfortable—the humidity had plummeted since the afternoon, making way for a cool but pleasant evening that made the walk to The Shadow bearable. They passed a seedy-looking hip-hop bar whose speakers blared a catchy tune, and Midna bobbed her head in time with the beat appreciatively.

Despite his excitement for the upcoming endeavor, Link found himself brooding as they wended their way down the street. It wasn't like Lucario at all to act so impulsively, and come to find out he had run off to DJ at some techno nightclub they hardly knew of, without telling anyone beforehand? Link reflected guiltily upon the last twenty-four hours, not at all surprised to find that his actions cast him in a rather selfish light. He was grateful Falco had told him to play the field and hold off on making any important decisions, but he blamed himself for this development. Last night he had almost hooked up with Lucario, and since then they hadn't spoken? Link had only his own poor judgment to blame for the way things had panned out, and found himself hoping against hope that he could get Lucario on his own to apologize properly, even if it was only for a few seconds.

Wolf elbowed the Hylian none-too-gently in the ribs. "You always this down in the dumps when you go out, kid? It's a club, not a Cornerian prison—those places are depressing as hell, believe me."

"Watch it, mongrel, I chuck people like you in those places for a good chunk of change," snapped Falco from the front of their entourage.

"Oh, I didn't mean that the prison itself is depressing," snickered Wolf, slinging an arm around Link's shoulders bracingly. "I meant that it's damned depressing how lax their security is…. I can't even count the number of times I've busted out of one of those places. Kinda makes me wanna give up a life of crime and start being good—that, at least, would be more challenging."

"You know what? Go play in traffic, you piece of shit."

Wolf sighed in mock regret. "I knew I should've pulled the trigger this afternoon and decorated the lawn with your brains. What the hell was I thinking?"

"So do us all a favor," interrupted Midna irritably, "and shoot each other to death NOW, so we can all be done listening to you bitch."

Rosalina's magnificent wind-chime laughter enchanted the others into laughing along; Pit took Rosalina's hand, and she smiled and curled her delicate fingers around his. The angel blushed a hue Link was certain he had never seen in the color spectrum before.

It wasn't until they were all standing outside The Shadow, admiring its dark gothic architecture and the interesting but appealing sounds wafting out of its open doors and windows, that Link noticed a lot of people staring at their group. At first Link paid this behavior very little attention—they were a group of renown heroes, and were used to people ogling them in public—but he couldn't help but look a little closer when, several minutes later, he noticed Pit frowning at a few men smoking on the front patio and tightened his grip on Rosalina's hand. At second glance Link realized that Pit wasn't just being paranoid—their three female members were all drawing a great deal of attention, and even a complete moron could guess why.

Rosalina, even more conservative than prim-and-proper Zelda, had opted out of her traditional sky-blue evening gown for a more casual but chic ensemble; this included a pearl-white camisole and a short-sleeved white button down that drifted open, all over a pair of pale denim jeans that hugged her slight curves generously at the hip. Zelda would have lit up a fashion convention in the bright lilac tube top that afforded a teasing glance at her exposed navel, with its low-rise dark blue three-quarter length jeans. But ever the brazen one, it was Midna who stood out the most among the three: she wore her red-orange hair Jacqueline-style over a risqué off-the-shoulder black satin top trimmed with ruby, as well as matching slacks that flared at the knee, almost completely hiding the black stiletto heels she wore. One of the three women could easily have dominated the club (or the entire street) with their shockingly beautiful looks; all three together made every other woman around look plain at best.

Link realized that his eyes were lingering about six inches below Zelda's neckline and with a start he glanced toward the entrance. The only thing visible through the open doors was an almost-blinding strobe light, occasionally illuminating the dancing, faceless bodies within. The music was eclectic even for the techno genre but undeniably enjoyable—it was the kind of sound only a man like Lucario could create. Link craned his neck, but it was no good: Lucario was nowhere in sight.

Falco sidled up to one of the bouncers, lowered his sunglasses an infinitesimal amount on his beak, and whispered for a few seconds into the doorman's ear. The bouncer's eyes widened with every word, and he hurried inside. Falco turned back to wink at them, and turned back just in time to be hailed by a short, rather nervous-looking man.

"Falco Lombardi!" shrieked the anxious man, wringing one of Falco's hands in both his own. "You are a godsend! The moment word gets out that Lucario—_Lucario_!—is DJ-ing here…."

"You'll have to tear this place down," Falco chuckled, "and rebuild it three times as big. So I take it he's doing well?"

"Well?!" Toshi was beside himself. "Dear boy, 'well' doesn't even begin to scratch the surface… this music pours from his very soul! I have never heard such sounds… he has a muse, to be sure!" It was at that point the club's owner took a look around, seeming very put-out that they were conversing outside The Shadow, and finished sheepishly, "What in the world are you doing out here? As far as I am concerned, instant admittance every night you wish to visit is hardly an even trade for the gift you have given me! Come in!"

And waving the protesting bouncers—and many cursing club-goers—aside negligently, Toshi led the way into the exotic bowels of The Shadow, the hottest nightclub on Bullet End.

They were momentarily struck dumb by what they found on the other side of the doors. The area directly ahead of them was a sprawling black-tiled dance floor, which, despite its considerable size, was completely taken over by dancing people; there were a few tables and chairs on either side of the door, but not many, and sitting and relaxing didn't seem to be high on anyone's priority list anyway. The bar was off to the right side, with an oval-shaped counter so it could occupy a good deal of people at once; it was being manned by seven bartenders, all female, and all dressed rather provocatively. A wide stage was set up straight ahead of the doors, lit up only occasionally when the strobe lights went off, and though there were instruments waiting in the shadows they were not currently in use. A staircase was barely visible in the back on the left side—leading upstairs to the loft area, Falco told them—and set up between the stage and one enormous speaker, a pair of massive headphones clamped over his ears, was Lucario.

Their jaws all dropped open at the sight of him. Someone had clearly been hard at work on Lucario before the club had opened to the general public—in the sporadic light from the strobes they could clearly see where black design paint had been etched along his fur in alluring shapes, with silver glitter mixed in. His eyes danced as he labored over the soundboard, the red-orange irises the next brightest thing in the entire establishment next to the strobes; it was miraculous how comfortable, how in his element, Lucario seemed here. Link watched the aura guardian at his work, his entire perspective of the other man changing, and felt his body heating up with every passing moment—

"This is wicked awesome!" screeched Falco, laughing appreciatively at Lucario's exotic makeup. "It's gonna be a good night." And without another word he waded into the crowd of gyrating bodies—they lost sight of him almost instantly.

"I could definitely get used to coming here," agreed Midna, and snagging Link's wrist in one hand and Wolf's in the other she tugged them after Falco; Link groped for the hand nearest to him—Zelda's—and yanked her into the fray behind him.

Link had very little exposure to music of the techno genre, but he knew enough about it to know that Lucario's music would get him famous in less than a week if he continued to mix here. Over the tops of bobbing heads Link caught sight of him occasionally; the lofted stage on which the synthesizer board sat was surrounded by people, and every so often Lucario lifted his eyes from the mass of buttons and switches to smile at them with that mysterious eyes-only smile he was known for. The natural black stripe of fur over his face had been painted over with the black design paint—the glitter mixed in was gold near his eyes, and the effect was dazzling. Link couldn't remember ever feeling so magnetically pulled toward one person before.

His thoughts were interrupted again when Zelda brushed up against him; her feminine body was distracting, and it urged Link to dance with her. Wolf and Midna were right next to them—Midna was whooping incoherent words over the music—and Pit and Rosalina crammed themselves into a bit of floor space next to Link and Zelda and joined them in dancing.

Across the club, Ike was already at the bar (having muscled his way to the counter). As he was waiting to be served his eyes fell upon one of the bartenders—an exceptionally beautiful woman sporting a Bullet For My Valentine t-shirt like a rebel queen at a punk rockers convention. She tossed her silver-blonde hair over one shoulder, slammed six shot glasses onto the counter in front of her, and mixed six .46 magnum shots so fast that Ike was positive if he had blinked, he would have missed the entire process. She spun the last bottle—Wild Turkey—over her wrist and into the waiting hands of another bartender, then slid the six shots across the counter and into the outstretched hands of the men who had ordered them. Her silver-lightning eyes fell upon Ike and she sidled over, wiping down the counter as she came.

"What'll it be, Muscles?" she offered with a laugh. Her voice was hard, but not in a rude way—Ike found he enjoyed the sound.

"Crown and Coke." In the moment she turned away to retrieve a bottle of Crown Royal his eyes swept her entire body four times with a practiced eye. "You want a shot, honey?"

She laughed again and jammed a mixing straw into the already-full glass—Ike accepted the glass in such a way that their fingertips brushed when he took it. "Honey? I know I ran out in a hurry this afternoon, but I distinctly remember checking the mirror and I look a hell of a lot different than a jar of Cole's Farmland." Ike could only stare—he had no comebacks for such a quick response. "But I'll take you up on the shot."

The silver-haired bartender took up a shot glass, a bottle of honey liqueur, and a bottle of Jagermeister, and Ike couldn't help but laugh at the cruel irony when she mixed herself a shot of honeycomb and downed it all in one fluid motion. She offered him a wink for his trouble and hailed the man next to Ike when he asked for a Bud Lite. The bottle was uncapped and thrust into his hand barely a millisecond later; she finished by holding her hand out toward Ike, waiting for him to pay for the drinks. "You got a name, big guy?"

"It's Ike." He slipped twice the dollar amount needed into her hand with a suggestive look; she laughed again and stuffed the extra in a back pocket of her cutoff jean shorts. The pocket was already bulging with bills. "You know, since you humiliated me and stole my money all in one fell swoop, you should at least give me your name too."

Someone called for a jagerbomb; she gathered a few bottles off the counter behind her and mixed the perfect proportions, all the while smiling at Ike in a very mischievous way. "It's Victoria, but I cut people who call me that." Ike flinched; she laughed a third time and shook her head at this reaction, strobe lights glittering off her hair. "Call me Vick, Muscles. Head bartender."

"Vick, huh?" Ike flicked the straw across the counter and downed his drink in one gulp before offering it to Vick; she snatched it from his hand and mixed him another. The exchange took barely five seconds. "I like it."

"Well thank God," she snickered, wiping down the counter again. "I was concerned you'd hate it."

Her biting sarcasm had Ike laughing along; Wolf sidled up to the bar next to him and punched him in the arm. "Fucking wallflower." Then, to Vick, he said, "Jack and Coke, if you don't mind, sweetheart."

"What is it with you muscleheads and the cutesy names?" snarled Vick, spinning the Jack Daniels bottle in her hand while she squirted Coca Cola into a glass. "You said your name was Ike, right? Tell your friend he owes me a shot, too; I don't do cute."

Ike turned an expectant eye upon Wolf. The mercenary commander glared right back, then jabbed his thumb in Vick's direction. "What's with this broad?"

Another bartender was passing and heard this comment; seeing the scowl on Vick's face she reached for a spray nozzle and thrust it into Vick's hand. The head bartender wasted no time in lifting the sprayer and dousing Wolf full in the face with ice-cold water. Ike erupted into hysterical laughter, pounding one fist on the counter, while Wolf sputtered incoherently. Everyone within a ten-foot radius whistled approvingly at Vick; Ike got the impression that an occurrence of this sort was not rare at The Shadow.

"Don't mind Wolf," Ike assured Vick, sliding another bill across the counter toward her. "He's used to getting what he wants, and shooting anybody who argues. Have another shot on me… honey."

Vick shook her head, chuckling under her breath; just to spite Ike she mixed another shot of honeycomb and threw it back like a professional. The former mercenary found he admired her. "Ike and Wolf, huh? Not Ike the ex-Greil mercenary and Wolf O'Donnel, Andross's number one commander?"

Wolf blinked, still looking incredibly irate; Vick tossed a towel into his face, and he started mopping himself up. "You one of my stalkers? I fucking hate fangirls…."

"Down boy. Lucario's already told me all about you two, and the rest of your friends." She was gazing admiringly in the aura guardian's direction; they could just make out his silhouette through the fog and strobes. "He plays like a dream… Popularity is gonna go through the roof. I give it a week, and the line outside will be three times as long as it is tonight."

Wolf ogled at her. "You don't say?"

"Toshi used to hit all the hot spots before he settled down here; he remembers La Vida in its prime, way back when DJ Luca made his debut there. Some talent search thing. If he was hot then…." Vick let this sentence linger unfinished, turning back to the bar and shaking her head with another low chuckle before looking up at Ike through long lashes. "You got the time, Muscles?"

Ike shrugged; Wolf's scouter clicked into place over his eye. "Ten 'til midnight."

Vick ducked under the counter for a moment; when she re-emerged, she was toting a megaphone. Her words echoed over the crowd when she roared, "It's about that time! Who wants a shot on the house?"

Cheers blasted Wolf and Ike from all sides; the other six bartenders were already lining the counter with shot glasses and mixing various concoctions. Seeing the incredulous looks on the two mercenaries' faces Vick barked out a laugh and said, "Boys, you a'int seen nothing yet!"

* * *

><p>Falco had almost successfully waded his way through the hundreds of club-goers to Lucario's slightly elevated mixing stage when a hand caught him from behind at the elbow. He lowered his sunglasses, prepared to seriously shout down a too-touchy dancer—<p>

-And was pleasantly surprised to find that he had been stopped by none other than Sonic the Hedgehog. The much-shorter blue hedgehog met Falco with an ecstatic grin. "I thought I recognized you! What are you doing here?"

"Sonic! Son of a bitch!" The avian held out his hand; they exchanged a high-five, and then a quick hug after only a second's hesitation. "What the hell, man? It's great to see your prickly ass!" Falco cocked his head at Lucario, who was only ten feet away now. "Luca started mixing here tonight, so we came to see the show. You alone?"

Marth, slightly off to one side and only two feet away, didn't miss the suggestive and appraising look in Falco's eye and sniggered beneath his breath. Sonic, not nearly as intuitive, didn't catch the innuendo. "I dropped by with an uptight friend. She's a good kid, but boy does she have a pole jammed up her ass. I thought a little club-time would do her some good, though to be completely honest, I'm pretty sure she ditched me half an hour ago." Sonic finished with a sheepish laugh. "Wouldn't be at all surprised to find out that she left in a taxi!"

"Tough break!" Falco called back, sliding the shades back into place on his beak. "Well, I hate to see a friend get ditched…. You wanna dance?"

Even Sonic didn't miss the evocative tone in Falco's voice this time; he nodded once and moved a little closer. He was a graceful dancer (though not quite as good as Falco), and didn't shy away when the mercenary brushed against him as they moved together.

_It's good to be me_, Falco chided to himself, and relaxing his body he moved in time with the driving music.

* * *

><p>When Lucario's next song ended the aura guardian removed the headphones and plunked them down carefully upon the synth board, amidst the ecstatic cheers of hundreds of people. He offered them a little bow for their enthusiasm—the cheering intensified—before vaulting the guardrail that separated his mixing station and the larger stage. He glanced once toward the bar—Vick was nodding at him encouragingly—and with a little laugh he sidled over to the jukebox and bumped it once with his hip.<p>

The atmosphere of the bar suddenly changed; one minute the seven bartenders were working like a well-oiled machine as they served the droves of clubbers, and the next a recording of "The Devil Went Down to Georgia" was blaring over the sound system. People surrounding the bar swept their drinks and loose change off the counter hastily, to make way for the bartenders as they clambered up onto the counter!

"What the fuck?!" shrieked Wolf in a half-drunken stupor, leaping as far away from the bar as he could get (which was only about four inches).

"Move your goddamn drink!" Vick snapped at him, accepting the hands of two bartenders and letting them hoist her up beside them. Ike had the presence of mind to retrieve both his and Wolf's drinks before the seven women on the bar let loose with a perfectly choreographed dance along with the jukebox.

"This place is BIZARRE!" Wolf screamed in Ike's ear, and the other mercenary just laughed and rolled his eyes. "No, seriously… what techno club does shit like THIS?!"

"The hottest one on the planet," Ike told him, and lifting his glass he toasted Vick and threw down his fifth Crown and Coke.

Halfway through the song, though, something unexpected happened—a few of the drunks closest to the bar reached out and grabbed Vick's legs, tugging her across the counter and toward the crowd. She cursed and tried to kick them away—

-Another figure appeared at her side in a flash, seemingly from nowhere: it was the painted and glittered Lucario, hefting a white bucket in his slender arms. _It seems to me that you lot need to cool off_! With that, he overturned the bucket and showered the men dragging Vick toward them with hundreds of ice cubes—they howled and released her at once.

"You heard DJ Luca!" cried Vick, laughter back in her voice. "Time to cool you boys down!" Wolf cringed away from her as she lifted the water sprayer up before her, and to chanted cries of "Hose 'em down!" she drenched the group of drunks with the cold spray.

Ike and Wolf could only babble to themselves as Vick and Lucario high-fived one another, and then Wolf cried, "I fucking LOVE this place!" before thrusting his empty glass at Vick.

* * *

><p>At twelve-thirty a.m. it was beginning to get hot inside The Shadow; Link knew he was treading water by pulling off his green polo, but knew also that he would suffocate otherwise. He had lost count of the number of vodka seven's he had drained by this point, and he was definitely starting to feel the drink's effects; his mind was a euphoric haze, and every sensation was ultra-defined—including the moment when Zelda's careless hand traced the hem of his forest-green tank top from one side of his collarbone to the other.<p>

"I've always liked this color on you!" she called over the pulsating bass beat, and suddenly Link couldn't hear anything that wasn't the sound of his heart pounding in his ears.

"Yeah?" he shouted back, searching for her eyes in the confusing change of lighting from blackness to glaring strobe. "Thanks!" As an afterthought, he added lamely, "You look great too."

Zelda turned a slow circle, moving closer to him all the while, and when they danced facing one another again she leaned forward and murmured in his ear, "I like everything on you."

Her lips lingered at his earlobe—the tip of her tongue ever-so-lightly grazed the flesh—and an electric current seared along Link's every nerve. Despite his better judgment screaming for him to do otherwise, Link couldn't find the resolve to move away. "Really?"

"Mm-hmm." Zelda wasn't backing down; she leaned back in their dance, brushing her hand along his stomach, and fixed him with her captivating eyes when she said, "I'd like everything OFF you, too."

The Hylian barely registered what was being said; his entire mind was growing sluggish and cloudy with every passing second. He only knew that Zelda was drawing nearer, that her clever hands were eliciting responses from his body, that she was so close he could catch the scent of freesia emanating from her perfect skin—

-His hands were on her hips and his lips were against hers, and Link forgot who he was… where he was… his own name.

* * *

><p>Falco shivered appreciatively when one of Sonic's gloved hands traced playfully down his spine, and through heavy-lidded eyes he glanced toward Link. Hopefully his friend was paying them some remote attention, picking up pointers to use on Lucario later—<p>

-The avian nearly choked on his own tongue when he realized that Zelda was crushed in Link's arms, their mouths glued together like a badly-drawn cartoon.

His head swiveled the opposite direction, seeking Lucario, and his stomach plummeted when he noticed that the aura guardian's eyes were already locked on the intertwined couple, an ancient, all-consuming pain burning deep within his pupils.

"…Oh shit," breathed Falco. "This can't end well."

* * *

><p>Lucario's eyes scoured the crowd for some sign of Link while his fingers busied themselves upon the soundboard. He had seen Ike and Wolf lingering near the bar when he had dashed over to rescue Vick and knew that if they had come, some of the others had surely accompanied them…. It didn't take long for his keen eyes to spot Falco—dancing with Sonic?-, and Marth and Midna, talking and dancing at a respectful distance.<p>

Inevitably he caught a glimpse of Link, looking glorious in faded jeans and a green tank top, dancing very close to Zelda; a finger of jealousy prodded at his insides—

-That was when Link all but lunged forward and claimed Zelda's lips with his own, wrapping her up in his finely-toned arms, bending her body against his insistently.

Only Lucario's unmatched discipline and self-mastery kept him rooted to the synthesizer, kept him from sprinting out the door.

* * *

><p>It was almost one a.m. when Midna glanced all around and shouted to Marth, "Hey—any idea where Pit and Rosalina ran off to?"<p>

Marth grinned back at her suggestively and cocked his head in the direction of the staircase in the back. The loft above, Falco had informed them, was a little quieter than the club below—and decidedly more private. "If I had to venture an educated guess at what they're doing, I'd say it's something pretty raunchy. Pit's put in quite a bit of quality time—he's due."

"Yeah? I'll take that bet, pretty boy, but only because I'm not a complete and total IDIOT. Are we even talking about the same people? That Rose chick is high-class stuff. Pit couldn't score with her if he got cast to be the new James Bond." A waiter was fighting through the massive crowd with a tray full of drinks; Midna snagged one—raspberry Pucker and fruit punch Gatorade?—and took a grateful sip before adding as an afterthought. "Holy shit it's hot in here."

"Ten dollars on Pit to go all the way, then," Marth challenged, and then he looked around again. "Say, it seems like a lot of our group has already… deserted us."

Midna spun a graceful little circle and found that this was true at first glance. Not only had Pit and Rosalina wandered off to places unknown, but Link and Zelda were no longer dancing fifteen feet away and Falco was nowhere to be seen. A siren wailed in time to the music—Lucario, at least, was still at the soundboard mixing for hundreds of screaming fans.

"I don't see Falco OR Zelda, shit, that's not good, Zelda drove and Falco has Ike's keys…."

"Over there!" shouted Marth, pointing toward the bar, and Midna caught a brief glimpse of Ike and Wolf leaning against the counter, Falco and Sonic moving through the club-goers to join them. "It looks as though Falco has picked up a friend… that looks like Sonic! That won't make Ike or Wolf very happy—they've each got egos the size of Bowser's daily food intake and Sonic may be the cockiest man I've ever met."

"This should be a fun experience then," chuckled Midna, and snagging Marth's free hand she made a beeline for the bar.

* * *

><p>At two a.m. Lucario stood up, taking care to turn off all the sound equipment linked to the synth board before he left his station to a chorus of disappointed voices from the crowd. Upon vaulting the rail to reach the main stage he bowed again and said, his telepathic voice drifting to every ear: <em>Thank you all for making my first night here a memorable one<em>. He cringed at the double meaning of his own words, but did not let his despair show in his voice, or his eyes. _I'm going to take a break for the next hour, but don't worry—Vick will take care of you_.

The lights flared to life on the stage, where the band was setting up to play, and Lucario made his way to the bar, where Vick was pouring her last shot for the next hour. Lucario practically fell limp in Falco's enthusiastic hug, and the avian did his best to ensure that no one could see the aura guardian trembling in sorrow. "Damn dude, you were amazing! This place will tear itself apart one day, where in God's name did you learn to do all that?!"

"He's naturally talented," assured Vick with a wink, patting the only part of Lucario she could reach—his shoulderblade. Then she tossed her rag to a passing bartender and tied her hair back with a rubber band, saying, "Well, it was great getting to know all of you, but you'll have to excuse me 'til three—little change in atmosphere." And with that she ascended to the stage, where she claimed the microphone from Toshi.

"Are you okay?" whispered Falco in Lucario's ear; the others, in the commotion, couldn't hear a word. "I don't know what the hell happened, Luca, I'm so sorry…."

_I don't understand. _Lucario's voice was so heavy with sadness that Falco felt the backs of his eyes get hot with emotion. _I just don't understand_.

"Let's get you a drink," said Falco, and turning back to the bar he accepted a drink that Midna had been holding, raising an eyebrow at her speculatively.

"Vick left it for him," assured the Twilight Princess, and Lucario snatched the drink from Falco's hand and downed half of it in one swig. Falco, Ike, Wolf, Marth, Midna, and Sonic all stared incredulously.

And then the first guitar riff tore through the on-stage amp.

The mood of the crowd changed instantly as they started dancing and screaming along with the obviously-familiar rock tune, and the moment Vick started to sing the Brawlers' jaws dropped open; her voice was rough and husky but strangely beautiful, just like Lucario's techno music.

"_Centuries pass, and still the same_

_War in our blood, some things never change_

_Fighting for land and personal gain_

_Better your life, justify our pain_

_The end is knocking, the end is knocking…"_

"So I've gotta ask," Wolf said suddenly, turning to Lucario (who was already sipping at his second drink). "Is it like this here every night, or do you guys just kinda make this shit up as you go?"

Lucario couldn't help but laugh at that. _The music changes, but supposedly this is the nightly routine. Vick does a rock hour starting at two, and the girls regularly dance on the counter, but aside from that it's basically my job to keep this place… exciting._

Wolf's eyes flitted to Vick, whose undeniable stage presence had long since won over the shrieking crowd. "Better think about getting me a VIP pass or something, then, Luca, 'cause I'm gonna be coming here a lot."

_I'll see what I can do_, chuckled Lucario, pounding the rest of his second drink, and rolling his eyes in Sonic's direction Falco shook his head and resolved himself to carrying Lucario home when the night was all over.

"_With peace of mind so hard to find_

_We're dwelling on the drastic signs_

_Another way to numb our mind_

_And as you close your eyes tonight and pray for a better life_

_You'll see it flying helplessly away…"_

Wolf was singing along—Avenged Sevenfold was one of his favorite metal groups—when Marth elbowed him in the ribcage. "Look alive—there's a girl down the bar at two o' clock, and definitely your type."

"Oh yeah?" The mercenary commander glanced to the right, swallowing the last of his most recent Jack and Coke, to take a look at the girl Marth was pointing out. Marth's words had been quite an understatement, Wolf decided, for the girl he saw was not only his type but easily one of the most beautiful women he had ever laid eyes on. She was a slender-bodied, lavender-coated cat—Wolf snickered to himself—to whom the other patrons were giving quite a wide berth at the bar; her violet coat clung to her upper torso and flared at the waist into white tights and pink striped running shoes. Her attire seemed a little out-of-place to Wolf, but he supposed he didn't look much better—still decked out in his decorated Venomian flight gear—but it wasn't any of those things that compelled him to sift through the crowd toward her. It was her eyes; an exotic, unusual shade of yellow, like twin pools of sunshine.

Wolf was out of earshot when Midna leaned on Marth's arm and said, "That chick is WAY out of Wolf's league—what the hell does he think he's doing?"

"Out of his league?" cackled Ike, shaking his head in disbelief. "You are one crazy bitch—this is Wolf we're talking about; Wolf O'Donnel, one of the most decorated anti-heroes in the entire fucking universe. There isn't a girl on this side of the galaxy, or the next, that he couldn't nail without a little perseverance and persuasion."

"Wolf, persuasive?" asked Falco skeptically, and the others chimed in with the avian's laughter. "Ten bucks he tanks it."

"Yeah? Double that, he scores," Ike fired back without pause.

"Double THAT, she causes him bodily harm," snickered Midna, in a voice of absolute certainty. "And not in a good way."

They all trained their eyes to the end of the bar, where Wolf had almost completed his approach, and Sonic's eyes doubled in size. "Oh shit, that's…. Wait, Wolf! DON'T!"

The sounds of the band on stage blotted out Sonic's cries; Wolf sidled up to the lilac-haired cat and leaned calmly against the bar beside her. She made no movements, or let on that she had noticed his presence at all. Wolf chuckled under his breath, gathered himself, and murmured, "Now what's a foxy lady like you doing here all alone?"

"I prefer to be alone." Her voice might have been kind in any other circumstance; as it was, her irritation at being addressed so lewdly by a stranger gave her tone an edge as hard as any blade. She did not look up from the counter; Wolf's smile faltered the tiniest bit.

_Okay, different approach_, Wolf thought uncertainly, and hitching the smile back into place he asked, "What do you say I buy you a drink?"

Her eyes flashed, like brutal sunshine in the desert. Wolf couldn't ever remember being so intrigued by a woman before. "I find alcohol to be a detestable substance that cretins drink. Therefore, I wish to decline."

"Damn, two strikes, huh?" Wolf chuckled and shifted a little closer to her—was he imagining it, or was there some sort of invisible heat emanating from her body? "Well, look, I know this music isn't exactly dancing material, but what do you say we hit the floor for a tune? I can be an awfully good sport, you know…."

Wolf reached out and brushed his hand along her arm; the motion was meant in a teasing manner, and he was pleased when her head snapped up and she locked eyes with him.

Pleased until he noticed the all-consuming rage burning in those golden depths, and even though he snatched his hand back with lightning speed he knew he had gone too far.

"Trouble," growled Sonic through gritted teeth, and with the others hot on his heels he fought his way through the crowd toward the pair at the end of the bar.

They were perhaps halfway there when Wolf sniffed involuntarily and then wrinkled his nose in confusion; the stench of burning hair was in the air, and no immediate source presented itself. The girl was facing him completely now, though, and there was no mistaking the tiny half-smirk of victory that curled up one corner of her mouth.

**NEWCOMER: BLAZE **

(_2005 Sonic Rush, 2006 Sonic the Hedgehog, 2007 Sonic Rush Adventure, 2009 Sonic and the Black Knight)_

The moment Sonic was within earshot he yelled, "Wolf, don't panic, but your tail is on fire!"

"And now his ass," blurted Ike, and he dissolved into fits of laughter.

Wolf craned his neck around to get an awkward look at his own posterior; sure enough, a tongue of bright flame was flashing up the tip of his tail to his rear end, and he was definitely starting to feel the heat! He managed a glare at the lavender-haired cat before diving across the bar to retrieve a glass of water, which he thrust into Falco's hands. "Fucking put it out, quick!"

Falco danced around to Wolf's behind and doused the mercenary captain's tail and buttocks with the contents of the glass—not at all surprised when the liquid worsened the flames. Lifting the glass he sniffed carefully before uttering a sound of distaste. "Ugh—kamikaze. That was a bad idea—hey, we might have to take Wolf to the emergency room soon."

The crowd around the bar was swiftly backing away, some pointing and whispering scandalously behind their hands, others laughing outright. Wolf hopped around on the spot, fanning his backside in a futile attempt to put out the fire; Ike, Marth, and Midna were all slumped against the bar now, laughing so hard they were breathless.

"SON OF A BITCH!" cried Wolf, his voice shooting up an octave higher in his panic. "SOMEBODY DO SOMETHING! IN CASE YOU HAVEN'T NOTICED, _I'M FUCKING ON FIRE_!"

Lucario hoisted himself onto the bar and dove behind the counter, fumbling along the spray nozzle stand until he found the one that pumped ice water; Falco and Sonic each seized one of Wolf's arms, turned him around, and Lucario let loose with the water sprayer.

A round of applause was struck up from the patrons nearby, and within moments the entire nightclub was whooping with hilarity. Panting heavily Wolf turned his severe gaze upon the diminutive lavender cat, whose shoulders were trembling with barely-subdued laughter, and growled, "Are you out of your fucking mind?! What the hell is your problem?! And don't bother pretending you had nothing to do with that, 'cause I know it was you!"

Sonic answered for her. "Seriously, Blaze, was that all about?! Do you have to do that when we're in _public_?!"

Blaze shrugged her narrow shoulders negligently. "I thought I made it clear that I wasn't interested in your advances. You weren't getting the drift from my subtle approach, so I opted for a more straight-forward display."

"Let me guess," snarled Wolf, his eyes narrowed into slits in his fury. "You must be a virgin."

"Don't speak of such a thing!" snapped Blaze, her eyes growing volatile again, and Wolf unconsciously covered his buttocks and tail with both hands. Midna, Marth, and Ike howled in laughter again.

"You know what?" sighed Falco, steering Wolf away from Blaze and toward the door. "I think that's enough fun for one night. We should probably head home—I think half of our party ditched out on us a long time ago."

Ike looped one of his arms around Wolf's, helping tug the struggling mercenary out into the street; Midna, Marth, Sonic, and Blaze all fell into step behind them, and before Ike could silence Wolf the mercenary commander managed to scream back at Blaze, "I hope you die in a car crash!"


	9. The One Where Ike Breaks Sonic's Leg

When the cab crunched to a stop on the gravel driveway leading to Brawlers Mansion, Zelda tore her lips free from Link's long enough to shoulder the backseat door open, fling the allotted amount of currency into the bewildered driver's lap, and drag Link from the vehicle by the wrist. The Hylian wasn't aware of much, but he knew he was laughing, and that meant the most to his euphoria-fogged brain at the moment.

They collided hard with the front door—Link failed to get the knob to turn on his first few tries, but eventually succeeded—they didn't make it very far when they at last burst into the foyer. Zelda flung herself at Link, shoving him up against the wall, kissing him hard—

"Ahem," came a mildly irritated cough from behind them, and the entangled pair turned to regard the speaker.

Meta Knight was gazing at them from the center of the sitting room—it was impossible to gauge his emotions with his faceplate on-, where he was seated on the floor, playing Scrabble with Kirby. Little Kirby took one look at Zelda and Link and couldn't help but utter a tiny "Oooo," that was half surprised, half disapproving.

"Sorry!" giggled Zelda, and without another word she snatched up Link's hand and towed him away upstairs to the third floor, and her bedroom.

"This is why I don't go out," sighed Meta Knight, and he used one of Kirby's words on the board—PATH—to spell out PSYCHOPATH.

Kirby chattered unhappily and updated the score.

* * *

><p>It was almost four a.m. when Falco, Midna, Ike, Marth, Wolf, Sonic, and Blaze arrived back at the mansion, Falco driving Ike's Jeep and Marth manning Zelda's Porsche. Sonic and Blaze, both remarkably fast, had opted to run the distance, largely in part because Wolf had cursed Blaze for the duration of the walk to their parked vehicles. The sitting room was vacant when they walked in, the lights all dimmed, and all was still and quiet.<p>

"Think they came back here?" Falco asked in a subdued voice, referring to Link and Zelda as well as Pit and Rosalina.

Midna shrugged tiredly and stretched. "Zelda's too refined—" she drew air quotes around the last word, to everyone's amusement, "—to do it in public. I'm sure they're here somewhere."

"He was tanked," Ike observed with a yawn. "It's gonna be drama central in the morning, there's no way he would've slept with that chick sober. When he looks at her he's terrified for his life, and she looks at him like he's something to eat. Kinda freaks me out."

"I'm gonna turn in," drawled Falco, rubbing hard at his eyes before turning to Sonic and Blaze. "You two shacking up here for the night? There're still empty rooms."

Sonic opened his mouth to answer, but was overridden by Blaze. "I will remain here, but I refuse to take my rest anywhere near HIM."

Her sunshine-yellow eyes were glaring accusingly at Wolf; Falco and Marth each wisely seized one of the mercenary's arms the instant before he attempted to leap at Blaze. "What the hell is your problem, bitch?! In case you forgot, YOU were the one who lit firecrackers on MY ass! If anybody has a right to be pissed off it's ME—and believe me, I am!"

"Your ungentlemanly behavior was unacceptable to me," Blaze reminded sagely. "I do not appreciate being treated like a side of meat."

"So I hit on you! Big deal! Do you always leave a trail of half-charred potential boyfriends behind you?!"

"Midna, why don't you take Blaze up to the third floor?" suggested Falco through gritted teeth, still trying to restrain Wolf. "She shouldn't have any problems up there with Pit, Kirby, and Zelda as floormates. I'll take Sonic downstairs, Lucario and Meta Knight are generally pretty laid-back…."

The moment Midna and Blaze had disappeared on the staircase Marth and Falco released Wolf; the mercenary commander glared for a moment at the spot where the cat had last been visible and growled, "Seriously, I'm gonna kill her. I haven't decided how I'm gonna do it yet, but when I do, she's MINCEMEAT."

Sonic flashed a frown over his shoulder as Falco was leading him to the sublevel and said, "I wouldn't try anything with her… she's the toughest girl I know."

"Yeah? Maybe I'll kill you first, rodent."

Falco tugged Sonic downstairs at a quicker pace, leaving Wolf, Ike, and Marth in the sitting room. Marth tried to pat Wolf reassuringly on the shoulder but flinched back into Ike's arms when the mercenary commander uttered a single low, feral growl before stomping upstairs to his room.

* * *

><p>At six a.m. sharp Vick ushered the last few drunken patrons out into the street with a parting cry of "Cabs are at the curb!" before closing and locking the front doors. She was not at all surprised to find Lucario slumped, exhausted, at the bar when she turned back, and even chuckled aloud before moving to join him. "So… I guess you kind of survived your first night here. Lucky for you we're closed on Sundays, so you've got a day and a half or so to recover."<p>

She moved behind the bar and started putting bottles back on their proper shelves; Lucario groaned and hid his face in his arms. Vick smiled down at the back of his head before pouring him a glass of ice water and setting it down near him. "Drink this. I'd offer you something for the headache I'm sure you've got but I'm fresh out."

Lucario peeked up at her from the circle of his arms—she laughed again—before sitting up and sipping gratefully at the water. _Thank you. Will I ever get used to the noise?_

"Oh, sure. I hardly notice it anymore." Vick ducked down under the counter and emerged with a clean cloth, with which she started wiping down the bar. "You were great, by the way—we'd be doing business still if the bouncers hadn't kicked everybody out, but I guess rules are rules, huh?"

_I suppose,_ condescended Lucario, replacing the now-empty glass on the counter. Vick refilled it immediately and pushed it back into his paw, and he continued to drink. _What are my closing duties?_

"You don't have any; Toshi has a cleaning crew that scrubs this place down when we close. They usually get here around seven. We'll take off in five, as soon as I've reorganized the bar."

Lucario blinked confusedly over the rim of the water glass. _We?_

"Yeah, we—are you deaf? It's six a.m." Vick leaned toward him on the bar with a suggestive wink, pitching her voice seductively low when she whispered, "Don't you know what a girl wants this early in the morning?" When Lucario sputtered a few incoherent words she straightened up with a rich laugh and continued scrubbing the bar. "Breakfast, silly. And about ten cups of coffee."

The Pokemon's answering laugh was genuine, and it brought a smile to the bartender's face. _I don't see why not… I don't particularly feel like going home just yet anyway._ His red-orange gaze dropped to the bar, dazedly watching the cloth skim over the bar as Vick cleaned, and her smile faltered a little; she chose not to address the issue at that moment, letting Lucario brood in silence until the bar was clean and organized.

"Okay," said Vick, surveying the bar with a practiced, appraising eye, "I think that'll do it. Breakfast?"

_Certainly_. Lucario dragged himself off his barstool with great difficulty, prompting Vick to laugh and shake her head.

Vick deemed Lucario far too tired to drive, so they abandoned his sportscar in favor of her vehicle—a rather beat-up Lincoln Towncar. Its dark-blue paint was chipping badly in places and she informed him immediately that the air conditioning hadn't worked for years, but she settled into the drivers' seat fondly and rolled down the windows. The morning was pleasant and cool; Lucario settled gratefully back against the comfortable seat and closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of the post-dawn breeze against his face as Vick reversed out of the parking space and headed down Commercial Street.

She kept her voice light and conversational when she said, "So I didn't get to meet the guy you were rambling on about before the doors opened. Didn't he show?"

Lucario, his eyes still closed, couldn't suppress a wince, and tried to dodge the question. _Link came, but I didn't get a chance to speak with him_.

The blonde considered this carefully as she turned the car onto a one-way street heading east. "Was he the one next to Falco, wrapped around the gorgeous brunette?"

It was silent in the car for a solid minute before Lucario opened his eyes and gazed wistfully but sadly out the window, not really taking note of the buildings they were passing. _Unfortunately, yes, that was him._

"You like him." This wasn't a question; Vick stated the three words matter-of-factly, as though Lucario's feelings for Link were common knowledge. "And you thought he liked you, but then that girl came out of nowhere and swept him off his feet, yeah?"

_How do you know all this? Did you ask the others about it?_ Lucario's eyes smoldered with anger—to his knowledge, Falco was the only one who knew of Lucario's feelings for Link.

Vick dispelled his worries with a negligent wave of one hand. "Honey, I've been tending bar at The Shadow since five years before I was legally able to. You work in a social setting like that long enough, you get good at reading people. You spent half the evening yesterday going on and on about Link, and then the doors open and I never get to meet him. I assumed something was up. So who's the girl?"

Lucario turned his head to gaze out the window again. _Princess Zelda of Hyrule. She'll succeed the throne one day when her father passes on; it's one of the single greatest empires in our realm today. Link has been defending her safety for many years. You could say it is destiny for them to spend their lives together… I am no match for pre-determinations._

"Bullshit you're not." Vick turned north, looking annoyed. "Do you really believe in destiny? I think that's ridiculous."

_Well, what do you believe in, then?_

They pulled into a nearly vacant parking lot; Vick cut the engine but didn't exit the car, instead turning her storm-cloud gaze quite seriously upon Lucario. "Alright, here's your first life lesson from me, so pay attention, got it? I believe that certain people are more suited for other people, but no way in hell is there only one perfect person for anyone. You fall in love and you work on a relationship to make it work. Some days you work really hard, and other days come as naturally as breathing. So if Link is what you want, then you'd better be prepared to move heaven and earth to make him yours. Are you really gonna let one brunette bombshell stand between you and somebody you care about?"

Lucario blinked several times, struck momentarily dumb by this; Vick winked at him once before sliding out of her seat and slamming the drivers' side door behind her. Lucario scrambled to keep up.

They had just begun enjoying their breakfasts; Lucario was smothering his french toast sticks with maple syrup and powdered sugar when Vick brought Link up again. "So how did this whole thing between you two start?"

Lucario surprised her by laughing; he speared a bit of french toast and devoured it. _That's quite an amusing story, actually… We were in Ike's room watching pornography—_

"Nice," Vick interrupted with another suggestive wink, and they laughed together before the Pokemon continued.

_-And the issue of virginity arose. Ike, of course, has lain with more people than I personally know, and Marth has been around a few times, but Link and I both admitted that sex is not something we have yet experienced. We were promptly made fun of, after which the issue of homosexuality was brought up. I asked Link if he had ever been tempted to explore a same-sex relationship—his answer was coy. The entire episode spiraled from there._

"I see." Vick ushered a sunny-side-up egg onto a piece of toast with her fork and bit into it hungrily. "But nothing ever happened between you two?"

_Not really. He came down to see me later that same night but wound up changing his mind. Then two nights ago we were in the hot tub—_

"I have GOT to come hang out at your house," Vick cut in again, looking quite intrigued, and Lucario's turquoise cheeks darkened slightly in a blush. "Porn AND hot tubs? Throw in a few centerfolds and you've got the Playboy Mansion."

Lucario laughed heartily at that. _Anyway, I'm relatively certain Link was about to admit his feelings for me when Zelda and Midna arrived. We actually haven't spoken since then._

Vick looked disapproving. "That's pretty thoughtless of him—to get you worked up and then completely ditch you? Sounds like a classy guy." When Lucario's eyes hardened Vick went on hastily, "Okay, life lesson number two—enjoy every moment of your freedom. If Link is going to ignore you and hook up with some other woman, you'd better make sure you're having twice as much fun as he is. Don't dwell on the ups and downs of relationships when you could be out in the world experiencing new things! Your life is an undiscovered adventure, DJ Luca. Start forging the path."

_How do you mean?_ asked Lucario, looking perplexed.

"Are you kidding me?! You're a nice, talented, sexy, SINGLE guy! The world is yours for the taking! Get out there and see what it has to offer!" Vick finished by taking a gulp from her fifth mug of coffee.

Lucario considered all Vick had told him quite carefully before answering. Was she right? He didn't want to give up on Link—far from it, actually—but what was the point in wallowing in a pool of unrequited love? If Link was going to enjoy his freedom by taking up with Zelda, shouldn't he, Lucario, be free to do as he pleased? When Lucario looked up from his half-eaten french toast sticks it was to find Vick smiling at him encouragingly over the rim of her coffee mug; uncertainly he asked, _…Will you help me?_

Vick reached across the table and dropped one of her pale hands upon his paw; her fingers were warm and friendly. "You bet. As a matter of fact, the most exciting thing I had on my agenda today was to grab a shower and sleep—but I'll have plenty of time to sleep when I'm dead."

The Pokemon's eyes-only smile dazzled Vick with its contentedness. _Thank you._

They finished eating—the sun was a little higher in the sky, but Bullet End was very quiet—and drove a few miles outside of town to enjoy the morning. Parked on a grassy hill overlooking a serene lake they lounged on the hood of the Lincoln Towncar, basking in the sun. Lucario's headache had at last subsided; Vick was half-asleep, her head propped up on the windshield, when Lucario turned his head toward her and asked, _So what do we do now? Where do we start?_

"You're sure in a hurry to experience life," observed Vick thickly, and she yawned and stretched, only to shift into a more comfortable reclining position. "Just to clarify, part of the beauty of experiencing life is to enjoy every moment—even the seemingly insignificant, low-profile ones. Relax. I need to at least nap before we do anything too exciting. Besides, how often is it cool enough to nap outside in the summer?"

_Fair enough_, conceded Lucario, and closing his eyes he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

><p>Due to the number of residents in Brawlers Mansion nursing hangovers, breakfast at nine a.m. was a quiet affair. Kirby was chipper as always as he bustled about preparing and serving homemade strudel of various flavors; outside the sky was steely-gray and promised rain within the next few hours. Blaze sat straight-backed in her dining room chair and ate silently, but with no hint of the animosity she had shown the night before; Ike and Marth were half-asleep and looked disheveled, and Falco was moaning and slowly drinking scalding coffee. Near the stove, Midna popped four aspirin into her mouth before accepting a plate from Kirby and taking a seat beside Marth. Meta Knight, already finished eating, was gazing out the window broodingly at the oncoming storm.<p>

The first sign of life from any of them stirred into existence the moment Pit stumbled into the kitchen.

"Hey stud," chuckled Midna darkly, abandoning her cherry strudel to regard Pit. "What happened to you last night?"

Pit poured himself a glass of grape juice from a carafe and carried his heaping plate of apple strudels and bacon to the table, where he sat down beside Blaze—who smiled at him briefly but said nothing. The angel looked as though he had just woken up from a very pleasant dream, an expression he confirmed by saying, "I had the most amazing night."

"Now you're talking." Ike dropped his fork onto his plate with a clang and leaned forward eagerly, prompting Marth to laugh. "Okay, Pit, give us the goods!"

"Well, Rosalina wasn't very fond of all the noise, and the upstairs lounge got kinda smoky, so we flew out to Lake Hylia and walked the shoreline for a few hours. We talked about our lives… we learned all about each other… and then we crashed in some meadow and…." Pit's eyes grew distant and a ridiculous, lopsided smile spread across his youthful face. "And… she kissed me."

The others were all learning toward him excitedly—with the exception of Blaze, who seemed decidedly uninterested—as though waiting for him to continue. Palutena's emissary got a very confused look on his face and glanced from one expectant face to the next, seeming not to understand. Midna finally broke the tension. "Yeah… and…?"

"What do you mean, 'and'?" questioned Pit. "Didn't you hear what I said? She KISSED me! It was the most amazing moment of my entire life…."

Marth, Ike, Falco, and Midna all exchanged a very sour, nonplussed glance before throwing assorted half-eaten strudels across the table at the angel. Pit yelped but couldn't escape being covered with many different kinds of fruit filling. Blaze wrinkled her nose.

"Don't worry, Kirby, we'll clean everything up," Falco assured the tiny pink chef at the stove, and Kirby saluted with a wooden spoon and tittered with gratitude.

"You've gotta be KIDDING me!" exclaimed Ike, looking disapproving. "You finally get her alone, you waste hours pouring out your soul in a meaningless chat-fest, and when it's all over you get one measly kiss—AND think you've actually won something?!"

Midna was holding out one slender hand in Marth's direction; the exiled prince glowered back at her before begrudgingly slapping a ten-dollar bill into her hand. She crowed with victory and slipped it into her shirt.

"Wow, Pit, we thought you were gonna tell us a good story," admitted Falco, and rising from his seat he accepted a rag from Kirby and began scrubbing blueberry filling off the linoleum.

"If you wanted a good story," put in Meta Knight smoothly, still facing the window, "you should have been here when Link and Zelda got home."

The focus of the conversation abruptly shifted from Pit to Meta Knight. "You saw them?!" exclaimed Marth. "What happened?!"

"They slammed into the door and couldn't get it open for half a minute or so. When they finally made it inside Zelda practically attacked him-it was disgusting. But when I brought it to their attentions that they weren't alone they headed upstairs." Meta Knight turned away from the window at last, his slitted eyes on Kirby at the stove. "Am I correct?"

Kirby pushed his floppy chef's hat upright and tittered his agreement. Ike slumped back in his chair, looking positively stumped by this news. "Wow... After all these years, Link finally scored with Zelda! Guess we can't give him shit anymore, now that he's not a virgin."

"We don't know that that's true," Midna protested vehemently, poking viciously at the already-ruined, half-eaten cherry strudel left on her plate without meeting anyone's eyes; Falco felt instantly sorry for her. "Personally I'm content as a cucumber to pretend that he sobered up halfway through, figured out what he was doing, and punched her in the face. How priceless would that be? It's Princess Daisy's birthday next week-if Zelda wound up attending that ball with a black eye, I'd be on cloud-nine."

Blaze laid her napkin upon her immaculately-clean plate, folded her hands politely in her lap, and turned her sunshine-yellow eyes upon Pit, who was still looking mildly starstruck. "Tell me-is this generally the way conversation progresses around here?"

"Huh?" Pit trained his glossed-over eyes upon the cat with some difficulty. "Oh... yeah, this is pretty much it. Well, honestly, this is the first time since Ike and Marth slept together that anybody's hooked up with anybody else; it's impossible to have a private life around here. You do something mundane, nobody really cares, but if you do something embarassing, lawless, dangerous, or in other words utterly stupid... Not only can you expect everyone to find out in roughly ten seconds, you can expect to be made fun of until something else happens to draw attention away from you. If Meta Knight hadn't said something about Link and Zelda, they'd probably still be taunting me."

"That's actually an accurate summary of what goes on around here," came a new voice from the sitting room, and Wolf wandered into the kitchen fully-dressed and looking more sober than the rest of his club-going companions. Blaze's eyes immediately hardened inhospitably; Wolf noticed and turned a nonplussed smirk her way. "Let it go, sweetheart; you're not worth the trouble. You keep the fire off my ass, I'll keep a pistol out of your face. We straight?"

Blaze considered this very seriously, clearly less than pleased with the way he had spoken to her, but finally said, "I agree. There is little cause for us to quarrel in such close quarters, especially with so many other people around. I do not wish to be the reason this house becomes a bad environment for everyone."

Wolf crossed the kitchen to the stove and picked up a clean plate, and unable to choose just one type of strudel he took one of each. Kirby smiled radiantly at him and nuzzled up against his arm before the mercenary commander sat down at the table-as far away from Blaze as he could manage.

"I wonder when Lucario will get home?" asked Midna, leaning around Falco to check the time-it was already nine-thirty. "Doesn't The Shadow close down at six?"

"As far as I know," said Falco with a shrug of his narrow shoulders, and he cracked a smile. "Did you guys see him last night? He was on fire... that crowd almost tore the place down. They loved him!"

"We going back anytime soon?" inquired Ike, leaning back in his chair and lifting his glass of apple juice to his lips for a swig.

"The place is closed on Sundays," Falco informed him, finishing off his last strudel and rising to carry his dishes to the dishwasher, which Kirby was already filling up with soap concentrate. "But I think we all need a day or two to recover, don't you?"

Ike slouched down into his chair a little further and rubbed one hand across his face wearily. "I hear you on that one."

"Wonder when Link and Zelda will be up," muttered Marth into his plate. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I can't wait to hear THAT story."

"Link was trashed; it'll be at least noon before-"

Ike's statement was interrupted by a sapphire blur streaking through the kitchen and stopping abruptly six inches from Kirby; the little pink chef squeaked in surprise and toppled off the counter where he had been cooking, landing painfully on the hard linoleum floor. Sonic knelt down and immediately replaced him on the counter, looking apologetic, and Kirby growled at him ferociously when he turned away with a full plate. Despite the fact that it was only fifteen feet from the stove to the kitchen table Sonic's features blurred as he crossed the distance at super speed, and everyone at the table-with Blaze as the sole exception-flinched in their seats when he reappeared to take a seat between Marth and Midna. "Morning!" When several seconds passed with no answer Sonic looked up, perplexed, to find Ike, Falco, Pit, Marth, Midna, Meta Knight, Wolf, and Kirby all glaring at him unwelcomingly; the sapphire-quilled hedgehog looked to Blaze for support, but she held up her hands toward him in a neutral fashion that suggested she wished to be left out of the crossfire. Sonic's eyes widened in confusion. "What'd I do?"

"I was about to ask what the plan was for today," Ike began through gritted teeth, "but I answered my own question when you ran in here and gave us all a fucking heart attack. I'm probably gonna brawl somebody in the backyard-it's probably gonna be you, and I'm probably gonna beat the shit out of you."

"What?" The smallest trace of fear could be seen in Sonic's eyes now. "Why?"

"Because watching you sprint everywhere at breakneck speed is like taking shots of Jagermeister-it's cool at first, but a few minutes later you kinda wanna die because your head hurts so bad." The others laughed at Ike's comparison; even Blaze allowed herself a tiny smile. "Don't you know how to walk, rodent?"

Sonic's face was pained. "But walking is so slow... And it's boring! If you could move like this-" He paused for half a second, just long enough to circle the table, run five laps around the sitting room, snatch another blueberry strudel from a plate on the kitchen counter, and dart back into his seat at the dining room table; Kirby toppled off the counter again, Midna gasped and covered her eyes as though she was about to be sick, and the others all gasped even though they had been expecting another display of speed. "-Would you ever stop?"

Ike glared daggers at the sapphire-quilled hedgehog, one hand clutching his pounding heart as he breathed deeply and deliberately in an attempt to slow his heartrate. "I would if I knew that there were three guys with swords, two guys with laser pistols, a chick who's long since mastered Shadow magic, an angel who's a killer shot with a bow, and a seriously pissed-off pink chef about to tear out my intestines. In case you weren't sure, that's what we're all considering right now."

Falco took up the rag he had used earlier to clean up the strudel they had thrown at Pit and tossed it across the kitchen; it landed ten feet away on the floor, near the place where Kirby was clambering to his feet and chattering furiously to himself. "Okay, Sonic, you see that rag? Get out of your chair-at normal-person speed-and walk over and get it. You hear me? WALK. Go."

If they had shoved bamboo splinters into his eyes, Sonic couldn't have looked more tormented; he climbed out of his chair with exaggerated movements and took two successful, walk-pace steps toward the rag before breaking down and retrieving it at his usual otherworldly speed. He placed the rag on the table near Falco's hand, looking guilty but much less tortured.

"I said WALK, you piece of shit!" roared Falco, taking up the rag and chucking it at Sonic's face; seemingly on reflex the hedgehog's hand blurred as he caught the cloth and hurled it back in the avian's direction, so quickly that Falco didn't even see the movement. The rag covered his beak with smeared apple, blueberry, and cherry fruit filling.

"I'm gonna have a seizure," complained Pit with a low moan, putting his head down on the table and covering his head with his arms.

"That's it," growled Ike, leaping to his feet looking livid; Falco, Marth, and Wolf all followed suit, looking mutinous. "You've got one hour to get ready to fight me, rodent, and when it's over you'll be in the fucking hospital. Got it?"

Sonic laughed but otherwise didn't answer, instead darting out of his seat, out the back door, down the porch steps and into the backyard, where he turned and waved mockingly at Ike. "If you can make it down here in an hour to fight me, slowpoke, you're on!"

"I swear to God," snarled Ike, "I'm gonna kill that little rat."

* * *

><p><em>You swear to me that this isn't going to hurt?<em> asked Lucario shakily, his telepathic voice filled with skeptism.

Vick finished sterilizing the needle in her hand and held it over a woodwick candle, breathing the soothing scent of lavender while the little flame heated the needle. "Would I lie to you?"

_I'm not sure... I've only known you for twenty-four hours._

"Is that all? Well, it won't hurt. You can trust me." When the needle was hot enough Vick took up an apple slice in her free hand and pressed it to the backside of one of Lucario's ears. "Now, I know this seems weird, but I've tried it before and the apple will keep your ear from bleeding. And I've got ice cubes in a glass next to your hand-just don't freak out and knock the cup over, okay? Here we go..."

Lucario couldn't resist the urge to squeeze his eyes shut tightly; not wanting to keep the Pokemon in suspense Vick lined up the needle and inserted it as gently as she could into his ear, pushing until she felt the point of the needle digging into the apple slice. Carefully she slid the needle out of Lucario's ear cartlidge and groped for an ice cube, tossing the apple slice into a nearby trash bin and applying the frozen cube directly to the point of entry. Lucario growled low in the back of his throat but otherwise didn't protest.

Vick waited until Lucario's muscles had relaxed somewhat before removing the ice cube and checking the piercing-the apple slice seemed to have done its job, as there was no blood. Setting the needle aside she took up the simple yet well-polished platinum hoop and slipped it into the hole, clasping it shut with a look of victory on her face. "There! Easy as pie, DJ Luca."

The Pokemon dared to crack open one eye, its amber-crimson slit glaring disapprovingly up at the blonde bartender. _You swore it wouldn't hurt-you lied to me. It was awful._

Amazingly, Vick chuckled. "Yeah, I lied-but only because if I had told you how much it was going to hurt, you wouldn't have let me do it. Don't you like it?"

She held up a mirror for his scrutiny and his eyes fell upon the platinum hoop dangling from his throbbing left ear, and he knew he would very much like the piercing once the pain subsided. He lifted another ice cube and pressed it gingerly to his flesh, wincing slightly at the jolt of acute pain the pressure caused. _I do like it. Thank you. This isn't the sort of thing I would have done alone._

"I figured as much. And I'm glad you went with the hoop instead of the stud-the hoop suits you."

As Lucario watched Vick started sterilizing and heating up another needle, unsure of what she meant to do with it until she pointedly yanked her shirt up to expose her pale-skinned, flat stomach. _No apple slice?_

"No need," said Vick airily, and she tossed a wink his way before piercing her own navel with the second needle. With calm, practiced movements she retracted the needle and applied a fresh ice cube for several seconds, breathing evenly in and out through her nose, before inserting the piercing-a candy-apple-red brand that read A7X.

_What's A7X?_ inquired Lucario, admiring Vick's tolerance for pain.

Vick lowered her shirt and exhaled sharply, moving slowly and carefully so as not to disturb her new piercing. "Avenged Sevenfold. My favorite band. I sing a lot of their covers during my heavy metal hour at The Shadow."

Lucario settled back onto Vick's shabby, overstuffed couch, careful not to let his ear come into contact with anything. They had come straight back to her apartment after snoozing for an hour or so on the hood of her car when Lucario had admitted that he had considered getting an ear pierced for years; obviously Vick had taken this wistful thought to heart. Now they were lounging together watching television; the words of the actors buzzed unintelligibly in Lucario's ears. It was several minutes before he spoke again, leaning forward and tapping his paw against the tiny screen.

_Be honest with me-does it hurt, getting a tattoo?_

Vick squinted at the screen to where Lucario was pointing; the lead male role in the nameless sitcom they were halfheartedly watching had the navy seal inked upon his forearm. "Depends. My first one hurt like hell. I fell asleep in the middle of getting my second one. Why?"

_It looks... interesting. I think if I could find something tasteful but unique I would strongly consider getting one._ He risked a glance Vick's way, not at all surprised to find her watching him with raised eyebrows and a kind of half-smirk on her face. Lucario attempted to backpedal hastily. _That's not to say we have to go out and get tattoos right this moment-_

"Nope! It's too late for any of that kind of talk." Vick leapt up from her chair, surprisingly energetic for a woman who had been tending bar at a busy nightclub all night, and started tugging Lucario toward the door. "Come on-I'll get one if you do!"

_Hold on a minute! You just jabbed a needle into my ear and now you want to stick more needles into my skin?_ Even Lucario was surprised at how feeble his protests sounded, and this realization wrung a laugh from his throat. Vick looked back at him, perplexed, but Lucario just shook his head and finished, _Oh, nevermind... Why not?_

* * *

><p>He rolled over and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, not immediately certain where he was but dimly aware that he was not in his own bed. Two seconds after he became aware of the fact that he wasn't in his bedroom he realized that his head ached so badly it made him want to smash his skull with a hammer, and Link sat up slowly and blinked.<p>

This was a mistake, as he instantly recognized the room he was in by the sheer volume of baby pink coloring the walls, the floor, every surface of everything... Link groaned when he noticed the clothes he had been wearing the night before strewn carelessly over everything-his shirt was draped over a lamp, his pants hung precariously over an open drawer of a chest-of drawers, and... were those his boxers swinging from the slowly-turning ceiling fan?

And then he remembered why he was in Zelda's room, completely naked with a headache so severe he couldn't see straight.

"...Oh _shit_," he mumbled thickly, his tongue feeling several sizes too big in his mouth, and he slumped back against the frilly pink pillows.

His thoughts, dulled as they were by the hangover, ran instantly to Lucario. Had he seen? Did he know? It didn't matter... The others certainly did, and if Lucario wasn't aware already of what had happened it was only a matter of time before he found out. There was no hiding it-secrets didn't exist in Brawlers Mansion.

He simply had to face it: any chance he had had of being with Lucario before was gone now.

"Ugh, I gotta talk to him before somebody else does," slurred Link, and stumbling out of bed he struggled to retrieve his clothes.

* * *

><p>Ike was swinging his massive golden-bladed sword through several experimental maneuvers when the others filed out of the house and started climbing up onto the roof. Sonic was sprinting laps around the house as a warm-up routine; Ike shot glares at him every few seconds, scowling so deeply the lines seemed permanently chiseled onto his face.<p>

"We betting on this?" asked Falco uncertainly, glancing at the others, and they all looked back at him just as quizzically.

"I will," offered Marth with a shrug, and he threw a twenty-dollar bill down onto the shingles in the center of their circle. "But don't tell Ike that I bet against him, he'll kill me..."

Wolf did a double-take; the scouter he wore whirred to life and clicked back over his brow, through which he had been monitoring Sonic's speed. "Wait a second-you're betting against your boyfriend?! Are you out of your fucking mind?!"

"You honestly think he'll be able to do any damage whatsoever to a guy he can barely see?" asked Marth, one eyebrow raised questioningly.

"Oh, no, he's totally screwed," said Wolf with a little chuckle, throwing his own twenty dollars on top of Marth's. "I just thought it was funny that you thought the same thing."

"I'm with you guys." Falco added a bill to the pile.

Meta Knight surprised them by following suit. "I am as well."

"I'll take that bet." Shocked eyes flashed to Midna, who laid down two twenties instead. "What do you say, boys? Feel like making me a rich girl?"

Pit shook his head, Kirby chattered anxiously in refusal, and Blaze held up one hand to indicate she wished to be left out; complaining a little Wolf, Falco, Marth, and Meta Knight all surrendered another twenty each to the pile of cash between them, just as Sonic darted across the yard and finally stopped facing Ike. "You ready, slowpoke?"

"You can get away with saying that shit now, rodent, but trust me-when I'm done with you, you'll be the slowest one in this entire goddamned house." Ike swung Ragnell through one more pass before slinging the blade up to balance on his shoulder. "Let's do this."

And suddenly, Sonic was running.

Ike let his opponent's movements blur together in front of his glossed-over eyes, memorizing the pattern at which Sonic changed direction or even so much as altered the length of his running stride. He had a feeling that Sonic was just running in complex patterns to confuse him, to get him rattled, but Ike was a mercenary and not a man easily intimidated by acts of mere show. Even when Sonic landed his first blow, a right hook that bruised Ike's left cheekbone almost upon impact, the mercenary barely flinched away.

"Uh... what the hell's he doing?" asked Falco in an undertone, leaning forward a little in earnest and confusion.

"It does seem a little un-Ike to just stand there and not swing his sword around like some mindless barbarian," Wolf admitted, crossing his arms with a frown of curiosity and clicking a button on his scouter; the little turquoise information window clicked back down over Wolf's eye, tiny iridescent mathematical figures scrolling by at blinding speed. "What's that caveman thinking?"

"If he is in fact thinking," added Meta Knight crossly. "Which I doubt."

Amazingly it was Blaze who defended Ike. "Give him a moment. I know the look of a master strategist when I see it, and your friend has something in store for Sonic. I can see it in his eyes."

"Looks to me like his master strategy involves letting Sonic beat the shit out of him," answered Falco with a morbid laugh, clicking his own scouter down into place a few millimeters away from his right eye. "Jesus, Wolf, check his speed, he's really booking it..."

"I know, it's fuckin' insane..."

Ike closed his eyes, listening to the air whistling by him with every pass Sonic made, counting the seconds in between blows-a kick to the stomach here, a punch to the chest there-until he had an accurate measure of the time. The hand clutching the hilt of his sword tightened.

"What's the matter?" laughed Sonic recklessly, speeding by on his left so quickly that he was little more than a sapphire blur. "Can't you keep up?"

"That's your problem," mumbled Ike, rolling his eyes. "You're always in too much of a hurry."

Broadening his stance Ike swung his mighty sword with both hands, his eyes still closed, bringing the flat of the blade smashing down upon Sonic just as the hedgehog made to sprint by on his right side. There was a brief, sharp cracking sound, and then Sonic was sprawled on the ground howling in agony.

On the roof there followed only a short, stunned silence, and then Midna cackled beneath her breath and said, "I almost feel bad for taking all your money, boys."

"How could you have possibly known the fight was gonna pan out that way?" asked Falco incredulously, his eyes still fixed on Sonic, twisting on the ground and screaming in pain.

Midna shrugged and snatched up the pile of cash, making a show of fanning herself with it before tucking it into a fold of her shadowy shroud. "Sonic was cocky and overconfident. Take away a guy's speed and generally they have little else to fight with."

Blaze was clambering down the rooftop, her face a strange combination of concern and amusement, and the others scrambled to follow suit. When they reached the yard Pit knelt at the shrieking hedgehog's side and gave him a swift once-over. "Looks like the sword struck him in the leg... Yeah, the bones in the right leg are completely shattered. There's a splinter of his tibia sticking out-"

"Shut up! SHUT UP!" roared Sonic, his face strained and his eyes manic, but he still managed to glare up at Ike. "Damn you, you BROKE MY FUCKING LEG!"

Ike took one look at Sonic, still writhing uncontrollably at his feet, sheathed his sword, and said, "Huh, would you look at that? I sure did! That's funny—I seem to remember specifically telling you that you would have to go to the hospital when this was over."

Wolf was the first one to laugh, but the others followed suit almost immediately. "Hey, he's right! That IS funny."

"Guess we should take him to the hospital, then," mused Falco, rubbing the underside of his beak thoughtfully. "Any volunteers?"

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" exclaimed Blaze, casting a beseeching look Pit's way, and the angel nodded sagely at her once before gathering Sonic up in his arms as gently as possible and unfurling his wings. Kirby whistled once and the Dragoon sped around the side of the house and paused, hovering serenely, a few inches off the ground; the little pink Dreamlandian clambered onto it and gestured at Blaze, who thanked him softly and climbed into position behind him.

"Well, you kids have fun!" yelled Ike with a wave, still looking unmistakeably triumphant, and without another word he turned and set off across the yard while the others followed him up the stairs and into the mansion.

* * *

><p>It was many, many hours later-the sun was low in the sky, though it wasn't quite sunset-when Vick dared to address Lucario. "How ya doin', champ?"<p>

Lucario cracked open one eye to regard the curvy blonde laying on the hood of the Lincoln Towncar beside him-they were parked on the same hill overlooking the glittering lake they had rested near after their breakfast that same morning. His partially-opened eye did not look even remotely pleased. _How ridiculous do I look? Be honest._

Vick raised herself up onto one elbow and faced him, making a show of studying his tattooed skin seriously before she attempted to answer-though, of course, the tattoo he had chosen was so extensive that she couldn't immediately see it all. At present he was lounging on his back, exposing his chest and stomach, and the rich green thorny vine twined itself artfully around the Pokemon's navel and branched off into several smaller lengths, winding themselves around his lithely-muscled abdomen, along his sides, and disappearing onto his back. At irregular intervals the thorned vines ended in jet-black roses, all in various states of bloom, though the one that dipped off the central vine just below his navel was the most magnificent-fully in bloom, its petals open and inviting. Vick wouldn't have dreamed that Lucario would ask to get such a detailed tattoo-she had expected him to get something small and nondescript, perhaps so simple that a casual onlooker would overlook it completely-, but he had done nothing but surprise her in the last twenty-four hours, so there was little point in making assumptions anymore. Her eyes snapped back up to meet his when she was finished studying the intricate inkwork, her smile full of approval. "You don't look ridiculous. I love it. It's absolutely beautiful. You sure are brave! To sit in that chair and let that guy ink you for five and a half hours without complaining..."

_It didn't hurt nearly as much as I expected, and it took so long I got used to it._ Lucario closed his eyes again and exhaled contentedly before adding, _I was just doing what you told me to do anyway._

"And what was that?"

_Experience life._

"Is that what this has all been about?!" exclaimed Vick, the volume of her question making Lucario jolt and sit up on the weathered Lincoln's hood; he blinked back at her, half-terrified, half-confused. "Luca, you don't have to get piercings and tattoos to experience life-"

_I am perfectly aware of that,_ he interrupted softly, holding up one paw, palm forward, to silence her. _I did these things because I wanted to! Your spontaneity inspires me, Victoria; in all my life I have never met someone so carefree... it's enchanting. I never would have done these things alone, or with anyone but you. It feels good to just... let go._

Vick couldn't help but blush at the sincere compliment Lucario offered her, but her appreciative and slightly-embarassed smile was short-lived when she scowled at him and said, "Don't call me Victoria."

Lucario laughed, his eyes filled with an almost overwhelming joy. _My apologies._

He lay back upon the sun-warmed hood with his hands clasped behind his head, gazing up at the clouds that skittered across the sky; Vick stretched out her right arm, palm up, to study her own tattoo: the Egyptian all-seeing eye, inked into the tender part of her wrist in hues of black and red. "Mine looks so _lame_ next to yours."

_Nonsense. It's lovely and interesting._ Lucario laughed again, turning his head to regard her. _Not flamboyant and unnecessary, like mine!_

He reached over and ran his paw lightly over her tattoo; his touch was so gentle that Vick didn't feel any pain, a surprise. She trained her eyes upon the glassy-smooth lake when she asked, "So what are we doing tonight? It's Sunday..."

_Can we go out?_ asked Lucario, sitting up immediately and interestedly. Vick giggled.

"Oh, I'm sure I know of a few places that get hot on Sundays... The Underground is fun, and I really like The Neon Cactus... Is there any place in particular you want to go?"

Lucario's eyes danced merrily. _Whichever place is the most fun._

"Fair enough." Vick pushed herself off the hood and took her feet, dusting off the seat of her jeans. "We need to be off, then; we can't go clubbing looking like this, can we?"

_More body paint?_ asked Lucario excitedly, sliding into the passenger seat and fastening his safety belt.

"Oh hell yes." Vick winked and revved the engine.

* * *

><p>Blaze, Pit, Kirby, and Sonic did not return from the hospital before dinnertime rolled around; once Wolf pointed out that he, Falco, Midna, Ike, March, Blaze, and Meta Knight had the combined cooking skills of a blind man having a seizure they decided on ordering pizza. It was almost sunset when Falco snatched the keys to Ike's Jeep from the stand in the foyer and traipsed outside to pick up their food, and when he stepped onto the front porch and closed the door behind him he was surprised at what he found. It was Link, sitting alone on the topmost stair and looking so dejected that even brash, sarcastic Falco couldn't help feeling sorry for him; the avian trod forward curiously, tossing the car keys absentmindedly from one hand to the other, until he was standing level with the slouched Hylian. After two silent minutes passed between them it became clear that Link wasn't in the state of mind to start up any conversation, so Falco nudged him in the side none-too-gently with the toe of his boot. Link made no indication that he noticed at all.<p>

"Gotta say," Falco began in a boisterous voice, though inside he couldn't help feeling wary of Link uncharacteristic behavior, "I've never met a guy who didn't brag shamelessly the day after losing his virginity. Where you been all day? Resting on your laurels? The rest of the guys will never forgive you for keeping this to yourself."

There was no response, and when Falco glanced down at the still-slumped swordsman it was to find Link staring blankly out into the overgrown circular drive where the brawlers had all parked their vehicles haphazardly. With a start, the avian came to realize that Zelda's stylish silver Porsche was nowhere to be seen.

"She was gone when I came around," said Link quietly, his voice carrying a frightening sort of dead quality. "Her car was nowhere in sight when I left the house to take a walk… and it still wasn't here when I came back…"

"Link, don't tell me you've been sitting out here on your ass all day, waiting for that chick to magically show up." It disturbed Falco that his natural derision wasn't coming as easily as usual; his own familiar voice sounded very far away.

"Yeah." Link blinked once, slowly; even that seemingly insignificant movement seemed forced. "I guess I just figured she'd be back eventually."

Falco just wasn't sure what to say, but he was one hundred percent certain that any humor-based response would only make the situation worse. He glimpsed surreptitiously at his watch—it was ten minutes past the time he was supposed to pick up the pizza they had ordered. He put out his hand. "Look, I'm on pizza duty… why don't you ride along with me? I think you've been sitting out here on this porch by yourself long enough."

"Okay." Link accepted the avian's outstretched hand and allowed himself to be tugged to his feet; his eyes were still glossy and vacant. He looked as though he were in shock. Falco steered him down the steps, across the unkempt lawn, and into the passenger seat of Ike's beat up Jeep. Even as they trundled down the gravel road and away from Brawler's Mansion, the silence between them stretched without interruption.

The mercenary couldn't stand it—he had to break the ice. Awkward silences ruffled his feathers like few other things could. "Link, are you okay?"

"Yeah." This did nothing to assuage Falco's worries: Link's tone of voice made the reply sound like a question, as though he himself didn't believe what he was saying, and when Falco glanced protectively at the Hylian out of the corner of his eye it was to find Link shrunk back against the seat of the car, looking rather childlike.

"Did you and Zelda… you know…. Did you sleep together?"

Finally Link reacted to what Falco was saying; he bent over, his hands clawing through his hair, looking manic. "I can't really remember, honestly. I was dead plastered last night…. I remember coming home with her, and her dragging me up to her room, and making out with her…." Link stopped his own half-formed train of thought with a completely mirthless chuckle. "You know what, nevermind, I'm pretty sure that answers your question, doesn't it?"

"Short of you giving me all the unnecessary details—which I'll definitely want to hear later, when you recover from this—yeah, that clears it all up. So, what, she just ditched out on you? No note, no phonecall?"

Link was still laughing quite manically; there was a steely edge to his laughter that made the feathers on the back of Falco's neck stand on end in an eerie sort of fashion. "Damn it, she used me, didn't she? She fucking used me. She fucked me and ran!"

They were at the pizza place; Falco parked the Jeep in the back of the lot away from the rest of the traffic and killed the engine, but made no move to exit the vehicle. He fixed Link with a very serious, almost beseeching expression. "You don't know that, dude."

"Oh, wake up, Falco! You've been around the block more times than I can count—don't you know a one-night stand when you see one?!"

It was half out of pity and half out of rage that Falco cocked a fist back and punched Link square in the jaw with a right cross; Link's head reeled back and impacted the passenger window with a dull thud, cracking the glass neatly in the center. When Link managed to look back at Falco—slightly cross-eyed—there was no trace of anything but remorse in his eyes. Falco did not feel better.

"Look, I know you're hurting, buddy, but calling me a man-whore is not the solution to your problems and it doesn't make me want to help you anymore. And before you call my bluff, yeah, everybody knows I was kind of a slut after the war, and yeah, I DO know a one-night stand when I see one—" Falco stopped himself, cocking his head slightly to one side and squinting somewhat imperceptibly in Link's general direction, as though he was carefully considering what he had just said. At last, the avian barked out a single harsh laugh. "Shit, man, there's no easy way for me to tell you this, but maybe you're right."

Link slouched back against the cracked leather seat and covered his face with his hands; a dark welt was rising on the lower right side of his jaw, and Falco felt a pang of guilt. "I don't understand… shouldn't I feel disgusted, or cheap, or something? The truth is, I don't give a shit about her, or that she left me without any explanation. All I can think about is whether or not Lucario saw, and how he'll react when I tell him!"

It gave Falco absolutely no pleasure to mutter, "He saw."

"Son of a bitch! How did this become such a fucking mess?!" Link punched the dashboard; the weathered plastic dented under the force of the blow. Falco wondered what Ike would say when he noticed the damage done to his Jeep, and then shook his head with a dark little chuckle when he realized that the ex-mercenary likely wouldn't notice anything was different. "A couple of days ago I was the king of the world—I had more relationship options than any other guy in the whole house! And now I've been used and abandoned, and Lucario will never forgive me for this."

"How can Luca possibly be pissed off at you for THIS?!" Falco's voice was rising. "You guys aren't exclusive—hell, you never even established that you were together in the first place! You were totally in your rights to hook up with Zelda, as far as I'm concerned!"

Link was shaking his head sorrowfully; the cheery light that always burned brightly in the depths of his crystal-blue eyes had gone out. "But I wanted him… and he knew it…. I led him on, Falco. He's gonna be heartbroken."

Falco didn't have the heart to tell Link that Lucario hadn't come home all day, and that this assumption was likely closer to the truth than Link realized. Instead he settled for saying, "I guess you won't know for sure until you talk to him."

"What good will it do? If he saw, nothing I say will matter to him."

"You don't know that. Besides, if you really do care about him, you owe him an explanation." Falco reached over and clapped Link bracingly on the shoulder, forcing the Hylian to look him in the eye. "Now as much as I hate to cut this conversation short, if I don't snag the pizzas and get back to the house in the next thirty seconds I have a feeling I'll be turned into chopped liver the second I walk in the door."

They stepped out of the Jeep together and were halfway across the parking lot when Falco added as an afterthought, "Was it as good as you hoped it would be? Your first time?"

Link hung his head. "Hell if I know."

* * *

><p>Falco had once told Lucario that, in his younger days before Andross had besieged the Lylat System, he had had a rough childhood. Supposedly there was a place at the far side of Bullet End, practically the hub of the dreaded Lower District of Mushroom Kingdom, called The Underground where Falco had once participated in cage matches while he was living on the streets. As far as Lucario knew the Lower District had been cleaned up since then, but it wasn't extinct by any means—in fact, the very same place where Falco had once risked his life for the entertainment of other people was now a grungy sort of techno club and bar that Vick liked to frequent on the nights that The Shadow was closed down. Lucario thought the tale was a little ridiculous at first but couldn't deny the truth of it the first time he set eyes on the place—namely because the outer walls of The Underground were constructed completely of heavy duty chain link, just like a cage fighting arena.<p>

"What do you think?" Vick shouted into Lucario's un-pierced ear the moment they had cleared the doors—a feat made infinitely easier in lieu of the fact that Vick had a VIP pass, which she flashed to get them inside ahead of a line of people easily half a mile long.

It was a lot different than The Shadow, Lucario privately admitted, taking in every sight the shady locale had to offer as he sifted through the throngs of closely-crowded people half a pace behind Vick: the entire club actually covered three floors, all of which could be seen from the first floor as the two floors above were similarly constructed of chain link fence. The entire space was only sparsely lit—a cool blue light here, a vivid red light there—and there was no DJ: just a jukebox wired up to a high-quality sound system that blared throughout the three story building. There was no bar either—just water fountains spaced intermittently along the walls. Almost everyone wore a glow stick somewhere upon their bodies, and a great deal of the patrons seemed to be covered in glow-in-the-dark fluorescent body paint.

Lucario couldn't lie. _It's… interesting._

Vick turned back, already moving in time with the current beat pounding over the speakers, to laugh at him. "I know, it's a little off the wall, but I told you you'd have a good time and I wasn't lying! Let's dance."

She took one of his hands and led him into the approximate center of the first floor dance lobby, where her ruby red sequined tube top and his rich gold body paint were sure to attract some attention, and they moved in time together.

And Lucario did have fun, though he had never doubted Vick—his new friend and coworker already seemed to know him far better than he knew himself, so there was little point pretending otherwise. It felt good to just let the rhythm dictate his movements and forget to think about the complications that were waiting for him back at Brawlers Mansion, even though the last shred of logic he had retained in the last twenty-four hours continued to attempt to remind him that he would have to deal with his problems when he went home.

_If I ever go home,_ Lucario admitted silently to himself, brushing one paw absentmindedly across Vick's arm as she spun a slow circle around him. The memory of Link kissing Zelda was still fresh in his mind as though he had only just witnessed it, and remembering what had happened only a day ago made him feel tense, angry, and somehow betrayed.

Sensing his distress, Vick laid one surprisingly gentle hand upon his cheek—their eyes met. "Hey now—none of that. We're having a good time, remember? You'll like this, check it out, they're prying up the chain link for trampolines, this is always fun…."

Sure enough a large space was being cleared of dancers not far from where they swayed to the beat; large sections of the chain link fence flooring were being tugged free by club personnel and there, beneath the fence, were several trampolines built into the reinforced floor beneath the chain link. A cheer built steadily throughout the crowd until a general roar had been taken up by all patrons. Lucario could feel that his eyes were quite wide.

Vick shot Lucario a knowing wink and stepped out into the now sparsely-populated space to stand beside one of the trampolines as three other dancing hopefuls, all male, did the same; there were four trampoline spaces in all. Lucario couldn't help thinking this was a very dangerous pastime and then reminded himself that Vick seemed to conduct the majority of her life balanced precariously on a proverbial tightrope suspended over pool of boiling magma.

The music struck back up and Lucario couldn't help but chuckle beneath his breath—the tune was one he could never mistake, for it was a recording he himself had played only the night before—and just as Vick and the three other steppers took their first steps a vaguely familiar voice wafted through Lucario's unsuspecting mind: _Can that be you, Lucario?_

The aura guardian pivoted with a natural agility, his red-orange eyes narrowed suspiciously and his paws raised in defense, but the aggression melted immediately into shock the moment he locked gazes with the one who had addressed him. Standing only a few inches away, his violet eyes wide with surprise but clearly quite pleased, was another Pokemon with which Lucario had once been rather close—Mewtwo, the genetically-enhanced cousin of the legendary Mew. Lucario could not have looked more astonished if a meteor had come streaking out of the sky in his direction. _My God… Mewtwo?! What are you doing here?!_

Mewtwo couldn't help dissolving into psychic laughter; the timbre of his voice, in contrast to Lucario's, was rather lower in pitch and colored with a hint of iciness that never quite left his tone, even when he was happy. _I could ask the same of you, my old friend! But I confess—I came here with a friend who happened to mention your name a few days ago; we have been slowly traveling across the land, making our way to this place the people are calling Brawlers Mansion._

_Who is your friend?_ asked Lucario quizzically, tilting his head to one side. The news that Mewtwo was not alone was news in itself—Mewtwo, an outcast even in the world of Pokemon, made it a point to travel without companions the vast majority of the time.

_I believe you know him—he is a mercenary of no small renown with whom we have both fought in the past. His name is Fox McCloud. A member of his mercenary squadron currently resides in the mansion where you are living and Fox mentioned that he wanted to pay a visit…_

Lucario swallowed almost audibly but did not mention to Mewtwo the concerns this news brought to mind—namely that if Wolf O'Donnel ever laid eyes upon Fox McCloud there would undoubtedly ensue a battle the likes of which the residents of Brawlers Mansion could only begin to imagine. Seeing that Mewtwo's ecstatic expression had faltered a little at Lucario's nervousness the aura guardian re-arranged his face into a look of avid interest and chuckled a little, saying, _This is exciting news! The general attitude of the residents seems to be 'the more, the merrier'. You and Fox will be most welcome, I can assure you. Will you be staying long?_

Mewtwo blinked once, his eyes so beautiful and otherworldly that Lucario was momentarily dazed. _Has there been fighting there?_

_Much._ Lucario laughed sheepishly and reached up to scratch behind one ear; the frenetically flashing lights glinted off the platinum hoop, and Mewtwo stared with undeniable surprise. In response to the psychic Pokemon's wordless question the aura guardian explained, _I have recently fallen into the company of a woman who is disarmingly spontaneous—a dangerous combination, as I'm sure you've noticed._

_Indeed._ Mewtwo's eyes were now sweeping the intricate inkwork that comprised Lucario's extensive tattooing; Lucario had the unnerving, but not unpleasant, sensation of being x-rayed. _You have changed much since we last met, my old companion. I can feel the power radiating from you… I think perhaps I have no choice but to come to this mansion now, if only to test the limitations of your abilities._

Lucario raised one paw up before him, the black velvet fur enshrouded with a faint fog of bluish-purple aura; the subtlety flickering colors danced in Mewtwo's eyes. _I would welcome your presence—but I should warn you that if you expect to find limitations in me, you will likely be disappointed. I grow stronger every day. Aura is strong with me._

_Yes… just as the powers of the mind are mighty within me._ As if on cue Mewtwo's eyes flashed a brilliant pearly white, causing Lucario to wince away anxiously, but when the smaller Pokemon realized that his genetically-enhanced friend meant him no harm they laughed merrily together. More than one person was glancing surreptitiously in their general direction now. _Am I to understand that you are challenging me, Lucario?_

_Perhaps I am. Does that frighten you?_

_Not at all—I confess I will heavily anticipate seeing you again. I feel rather impatient already._

Lucario's eyes clouded with confusion as he searched for the meaning to these words within the unfathomable depths of Mewtwo's violet orbs; to his credit, the psychic clone Pokemon merely smirked knowingly and crossed his slender arms over his narrow chest, superior and yet, just as he had said, undeniably impatient. Lucario's mind was reeling. Was there more to this chance encounter than witty banter and the promise of a fight? Was he imagining the rosy tint to Mewtwo's cheeks? Did the butterflies in his stomach have anything at all to do with the battle he had just agree to participate in?

As she stepped off the dance floor, fanning herself with one hand, Vick Ralis spotted Lucario and Mewtwo together and instinctively understood that that was one conversation she would do well not to interrupt.


	10. The One With the Four on Four Battle

The Dragoon was hovering serenely in the gravel driveway when Link awoke the next morning, so he assumed that Kirby, Pit, and Blaze had returned home from the hospital with Sonic sometime during the night. On the other hand, Lucario's sportscar was still missing; the Hylian ran his fingers through his unkempt hair and heaved a sigh, privately admitting that if the aura guardian didn't show up before noon he would head into Mushroom Kingdom and start looking for him. Meta Knight, Falco, and Blaze were the only other residents of Brawlers Mansion gathered in the dining room for breakfast when Link wandered in, but Kirby was bustling happily about the stove like always and chattered joyously at the Hylian when he entered; Link cracked a tiny smile and dropped one gentle hand upon Kirby's head in welcome as he accepted his breakfast plate, wringing a pleased cooing sound from the little pink chef in reply.

"How's Sonic?" Link made a point of asking Blaze, glancing concernedly her way as he claimed a seat between her and Falco.

Blaze barely glanced up from her chocolate chip pancakes, the same strange mixture of displeasure and amusement coloring her normally stern face. "Enraged. The blow struck his entire right leg, the blade was so large—his femur is completely shattered, and he has a compound fracture of his tibia. He'll be in a cast for at least three months."

Falco's beak curled upward at this news and he suddenly became incredibly interested in his ketchup-smothered sausages. Blaze shot a glare his way but said nothing; Link helped the avian sidestep a nasty confrontation by asking, "Has Lucario called?"

"Sorry buddy—no news." Falco looked up, chewing idly on a bit of sausage, and fixed Link with a piteous look that made the Hylian feel worse, not better. "I'm sure he's fine, though."

"I'm heading into town to look for him if he's not here by lunchtime," Link promised coldly, glaring down at his own pancakes as though they were keeping Lucario from coming home. He abruptly found that he was no longer hungry and shoved the plate toward the middle of the table, not at all surprised when Wolf marched into the dining room and snatched up the plate without hesitation. "Morning Wolf."

Wolf nodded in Link's general direction, but his eyes were on Blaze; the cat visibly stiffened in her chair. "How's the cripple? Is he in a wheelchair? I'd keep an eye on him if I was you—I'm sure he'll start considering suicide now that he's without the ability to run around like a maniac."

Blaze's eyes, if possible, were simmering with fires of quiet rage. "You are a sad, remorseless excuse for a man."

"You bet your ass I'm remorseless—it's one of the only things that's kept me alive for this long. If I was a pansy like Lombardi I would've been torched years ago, right Lombardi?"

Falco glowered, his eyes narrowed forbiddingly over his fork. "If that's true, how do you explain why _I'm_ still alive?"

Wolf stretched luxuriously and leaned back in his chair, shoveling a forkful of syrup-soaked pancake into his mouth and chewing in a rather superior way as he said, "Because I'm on temporary leave. Trust me—if Andross calls while I'm here and orders me back into action, you'll be the first one to go."

"This is what I have never understood," interjected Meta Knight, turning away from his customary place near the window and facing the rest of the occupants of the table. "You are members of rival mercenary squads and always have been. How is it that you can coexist somewhat peaceably here, without killing one another?"

"Oh, it's nothing personal," admitted Falco, abandoning his seat and approaching the stove so Kirby could pile a second helping of pancakes and sausages onto his plate. "Wolf and I don't naturally hate each other, to be honest—I actually enjoy his company when we're both on employment leave, while the Lylat System isn't at war. We're enemies by necessity; he works for Andross, I work for General Pepper, and they're constantly at odds with one another. I guess you could say that Wolf and I get paid to hate each other when combat flares up every few months or so."

"They're completely different during wartime," Link added, accepting a cup of steaming coffee gratefully from Midna as she entered and slid into an empty seat between Wolf and Meta Knight. "I've seen them…. Wolf, you're the most cutthroat guy I've ever met when there's a paycheck on the line."

"You do what you gotta do to survive," Wolf told them with a shrug, wiping his muzzle clean with a napkin.

Blaze was shaking her head disgustedly. "You make me sick! You have absolutely no appreciation for life! How can you stand to conduct your life in this manner?! Have you no morals, no sense of valor?"

"Valor is just another word for stupidity," said Wolf flippantly, waving one hand negligently. "Just ask Fox's father, James McCloud."

Link raised a skeptical eyebrow, considering that statement carefully before he asked uncertainly, "Isn't James McCloud dead? Killed by a turncoat to end the First Lylat War?"

Wolf's answering smirk was one of the most devious facial expressions any of them had ever seen. "Exactly."

The feathers on the back of Falco's neck stood on end at this; thankfully everyone was again spared from another violent outburst when Pit stumbled sleepily into the kitchen, waving off Kirby's offer of breakfast and practically falling over the jug of orange juice. A few people laughed, but Falco addressed Palutena's emissary rather seriously when he said, "Hey, Pit, I'm glad you're up. I finished the modifications to my bike—well, your bike, I guess. If you take it to the Mario Kart Grand Prix officials later this afternoon and get it registered you can be back on the track again in time for the race at Peach Beach next week."

Pit sat down beside Blaze, suddenly looking much more awake. "Are you serious?!"

"Serious as a heart attack. Just try not to throw this one into a pool of lava like you did the last one, okay?" Falco winked at the angel over his glass of cranberry juice. "Let me finish my breakfast and I'll take you outside so you can look it over."

There was silence for another couple of minutes, during which they all busied themselves about their breakfasts (except for Link, whose stomach was still churning rather unpleasantly at the prospect of Lucario in danger), until Wolf looked up seemingly for no reason at all and cocked an ear toward the stairs leading to the sublevel. The others glanced at him quizzically as though concerned for his sanity, but one-by-one they came to hear what he was clearly listening to—a muffled clunking noise, coming from the basement and drawing nearer all the while. They all turned in their seats to watch the basement steps, wondering what could possibly be making such a commotion, and just when Falco's hand was reaching for a pistol holstered at his hip and Meta Knight was drawing out Galaxia they discovered just what was causing the racket.

For Sonic had just reached the ground floor landing and was painstakingly making his way toward the kitchen, his crutches clunking with every other step as he slung his useless right leg forward ahead of him.

It was unnervingly quiet for almost a minute and a half as eight sets of eyes watched Sonic make his way into the dining room—Kirby was nice enough to bring him his breakfast, albeit with a tittering noise that was half-sympathetic, half-amused-; the hedgehog chose not to meet any of their gazes but sat down grudgingly, feasting at once on his stack of pancakes without acknowledging anyone. Eventually he could not stand the suspenseful quiet, though, and condescended to look up in exasperation.

Laughter exploded from every mouth, echoing off the walls like a stroke of thunder, and only intensified when Sonic growled, "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, I know, I'm in a goddamn cast. Thanks for the sympathy."

"Sympathy?!" Midna managed to choke out, wiping the mist of hysterical tears from her eyes. "You deserved what you got, in my opinion! Sprinting around, giving us all motion sickness—you're lucky all Ike did was break your leg! I considered castrating you, myself.

"I was gonna poison your next meal," added Wolf. "I'm with Midna—you got lucky."

"Enjoy the next few months while everyone's moving faster than you," spoke up Pit, making a very rare joke at someone else's expense, and a second gale of laughter followed this comment.

Sonic clearly had no retorts to defend himself from the verbal attacks, as all he said was "Bite me."

"Where?" came Ike's voice from the sitting room, through which he and Marth were passing on their way to the kitchen, and Sonic covered his head with his arms and fumed. Falco offered his seat to Ike as he abandoned it, motioning to Pit to join him, and the angel bounded forward excitedly to shove his empty plate into the dishwasher and follow the avian through the sitting room, into the foyer, and out into the front yard.

Both of them forgot about the bike almost instantly when their eyes swept the gravel driveway, and the four people meandering companionably through the overgrown yard toward the porch.

Lucario was leading the way, free of glitter and body paint now, the sunlight glinting merrily off the platinum hoop in his ear and the colors of his tattoo so vivid they almost gleamed; he was arm-in-arm with Vick Ralis, the head bartender of The Shadow, who seemed a little less stand-offish in a pair of flared jeans and a slightly baggy Killswitch Engage t-shirt with her pale blond hair pulled back in a ponytail. Following rather closely in Lucario's wake was the slightly taller and infinitely more intimidating Mewtwo, whose face was surprisingly good-natured as he laughed jovially at some joke Lucario had just made, and bringing up the rear, seeming utterly at ease, was renown Loyalist mercenary commander Fox McCloud. Falco's eyes flitted to the overgrown driveway—parked on one side of Lucario's Mustang was a chipped and battered Lincoln Towncar, on the other side of which was a forest-green Camaro with the Star Fox emblem detailed in silver on the passenger side door.

"Hey Falco!" called Fox in greeting, waving enthusiastically at his long-time comrade-in-arms.

_Good morning!_ tinkled Lucario's telepathic voice, releasing Vick's arm and scaling the steps to pull Falco into a warm one-armed embrace. Even without the piercing and the tattoo Falco would have taken Lucario for a changed man; the aura guardian's face was alive with contentedness and pleasure and his eyes were free of the worries they had held thirty-six hours ago.

It wasn't until Fox had raced up the porch stairs to shake Falco's hand with both of his own that the avian managed to speak, and when he did his voice trembled with terror as he addressed his former mercenary leader. "What the HELL are you doing here?!"

Fox abruptly dropped the avian's feathered hand, incredibly taken aback by this unexpected salutation. "Er, I came to visit… this a bad time or something?"

But Falco wasn't listening; seizing one of Fox's arms he shoved rudely past Pit and marched purposefully down the porch steps and back into the overgrown circle drive, attempting to cram the shorter, stockier mercenary back into his vehicle. "Yes! You've gotta get outta here! Quick, before he sees-!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Fox managed to gasp out, slowly suffocating between the car door and the frantic avian pinning him up against his vehicle. "Before who sees?"

But it was far too late, as the other residents of Brawlers Mansion were now trouping out in the yard to inspect Pit's completed racing motorcycle. Pit struggled with absolutely no success to obstruct the door so no one could pass, his eyes wild with panic, but Ike easily shouldered him out of the way and the others spilled onto the porch after him. There was a split second in which everyone gaped at Lucario's unbelievable tattooing—

-And then a shot fired from the center of the mass of people crowded together on the porch, whizzing between Lucario and Mewtwo, narrowly missing the antennae on the hood of Ike's Jeep, zipping beneath Falco's arm, and sizzling the hair off the top of Fox's bowed head. The vulpine yelped in terror and finally managed to buck his friend off of him, fanning out the tiny fires the laser bullet had ignited along his fur and cursing explicitly as he scoured the crowd for the shooter.

The group parted, trepidation bringing a stunned silence down upon them all, to reveal the victorious figure of Wolf O'Donnell standing in the center; he was holding one of Falco's own laser pistols in one hand and had Fox in his sights—the barrel of the gun was still smoking ominously.

Fox's face paled until it was as white as a sheet of paper.

The others exploded into motion.

Blaze reacted quickest, turning to face Wolf as her eyes flashed an alarming shade of ruby, but the leader of the Star Wolf mercenaries strafed so quickly to one side that the pyrokinetic attack missed him and set Marth's cape on fire instead. Ike hefted his sword off his shoulder and aimed a quick downward stroke at the off-balance lupine but missed him completely when Wolf planted one foot, pivoted, and dashed between the crutch-wielding Sonic and the cowering Pit. Midna whisked the sword Falchion out of its sheath at Marth's hip and swung—Wolf tucked into a roll and the blade sailed harmlessly over his head—as at the same time Link drew the Master Sword and lunged forward with it. Wolf skidded down the porch steps on his knees and turned just in time to fire the pistol in his hand once, his aim good enough to strike the hilt of the sword Link held and jolt the blade from its owner's hand. Meta Knight whipped Galaxia overhead and tossed it end-over-end in a desperate attempt to foil Wolf's way forward, but to no avail; Wolf adjusted his aim and fired again, taking the sword out of the air, and the bullet ricocheted off the blade at the perfect angle to force Lucario back a few steps. That left only Falco to deter him; the avian's hand dove for his other laser pistol, but by the time he unholstered it and brought it up in front of him Wolf had already sprinted the length of the circle drive and was far too near for Falco to crack off a shot. Instead of shooting the much-taller mercenary outright, Wolf opted to slam the butt of the gun down on the base of Falco's skull—the blow brought the avian down like a sack of potatoes.

Fox suddenly found himself standing face-to-face with his single greatest nemesis in the universe and realized all too late that he had not even made a move to draw a weapon in his own defense. The ghost of a triumphant grin flashed across Wolf's muzzle before the Separatist mercenary commander darted closer still, punching Fox in the stomach so hard the vulpine doubled over in agony then seizing Fox by the hackles of the back of the neck with his cruel black claws.

By the time the others realized what was happening it was all over—Wolf had Fox completely immobilized beside the Star Fox commander's vehicle, his sharp canines resting dangerously near to the vulpine's exposed neck, the barrel of Falco's laser pistol digging into Fox's left temple. They paused in various states of action upon the porch, the stairs, and the driveway, grimacing in preparation for the grisly death Fox was surely about to meet—

Wolf cackled his lowest, most condemning laugh, lifted his head up just enough to lock gazes with the terrified mercenary he held, and growled, "You never called, you bastard."

And then he was kissing Fox so roughly that all the others could do was stare in complete disbelief.

Vick was the first who could manage to break the silence, glancing uncertainly at Lucario and mumbling sheepishly, "Is it like this all the time around here?"

Lucario glanced from the dumbfounded conflagration grouped on the porch, to the crumpled and delirious Falco, to the passionately intertwined rival mercenary leaders, and answered simply, _For the most part, yes._

"I don't understand," professed Marth, accepting his sword from Midna and sliding it back into its scabbard looking perplexed. "Didn't he tell us when he showed up that he wanted Fox dead?"

They all considered for a moment, scouring their memories for exactly what Wolf had said the day he had thrown a detonator into their living room and disrupted their harebrained but peaceable lives, and finally Ike had found the answer. "Actually, what he said was 'I want McCloud. I know he's here. So don't bother protecting him'."

No one knew how to respond to this—no one really believed that was what Wolf had said anyway—until Lucario finished, _Yes, that's right…. He also said 'I demand to stay here until he shows up; we have business'._

"'It's McCloud I'm after, not any of you,'" breathed Pit, completely taken aback as the memory of that day came flooding back to them all. "'Don't even try and chase me off, either, 'cause I'm not leaving'…"

"Huh," grunted Marth, scratching the back of his head and shrugging his shoulders. "Now that you mention it, I do remember all that happening… I guess you're right, Ike. Technically he _didn't_ say he was hanging around so he could kill Fox. We all just sort of… _assumed_ he wanted to kill him."

"Well it was a pretty safe assumption to make," muttered Falco, at last shoving himself into a sitting position and slumping back against Fox's Camaro, massaging the base of his skull gingerly and wincing. "It's a rare occasion when Wolf _isn't_ trying to kill Fox, isn't it?"

Meta Knight used Galaxia to gesture in Fox and Wolf's direction, where the latter had yet to release his rival mercenary commander from their almost desperate embrace, though his eyes were upon Falco when he asked, "I do not understand. How is it possible that you did not know of this? Are you not Fox's primary confidante?"

Falco took one look at his infamous leader and rolled his eyes in disgust before wandering up the driveway to join the others. "You'd have to ask him how this happened, because I haven't got a clue. Whenever the war flares up you'll always see these two going at each other as hard as they can—it's widely accepted knowledge that if one of them kills the other, the winner will deal a devastating blow to the opposing side that will be almost impossible to recover from. Some people even think that whichever commander loses first, loses the war. Pepper and Andross depend pretty heavily upon the success of their mercenary leaders. They're like direct extensions of their respective employers… how was I supposed to know they've been boinking each other on the side?"

Wolf managed to resurface at this last snide question and turned his electric eye upon Falco, a smile that was part devious and part victorious turning up the corners of his muzzle. "Don't worry yourself over the finer points of this development, bird—it won't affect your paycheck. We're all business and no pleasure when it comes time for us to fight, as per our agreement."

"You made an agreement about when and when not to have sex?" squealed Marth, as one by one they all trouped back into the mansion. "That's a little creepy…"

The group fell into various states of relaxation around the sitting room; Fox, trapped happily at Wolf's side by one of the lupine's perfectly sculpted arms, shrugged sheepishly at Marth. "Not really. We agreed when things started that we couldn't possibly be together during wartime—it doesn't make any sense, does it, when we're paid to fight each other? But on our own time we can do whatever we want."

"So you decided you'd do each other?" snickered Ike, and most of the residents laughed along with him; Blaze wrinkled her nose as though disgusted and Sonic shook his head wearing an expression of deep discomfort, while Pit looked a little paler than usual.

"Isn't that tough on you both?" asked Vick, sitting on the floor in front of the couch, leaning comfortably back against Lucario's shins. "I know it isn't any of my business, but I know if I was seeing somebody, I wouldn't be able to take fighting them to the death when somebody else ordered me to."

It was Wolf's turn to shrug. "It sucks sometimes," he admitted, nipping at one of Fox's ears as he spoke, "but we make it work."

The others murmured impressively amongst themselves at this, but ever-observant Falco did not miss the flash of guilt that blazed fleetingly through Fox's eyes at Wolf's words. Making a mental note to talk privately with Fox at a later date, the avian prudently changed the subject.

"So, Lucario! You show up at The Shadow as a killer techno DJ one night, disappear for a day and a half, and come waltzing back in here with a piercing and a tattoo. Jekyll and Hyde much?"

Lucario laughed long and hard, seeming not at all ashamed. _You can't rightfully blame me for my behavior over the last thirty-six hours…. Well, at least, not completely. I daresay I had a helping hand in all of these seemingly out-of-character decisions._

Link glared jealously in Mewtwo's direction, assuming the psychic Pokemon to be the instigator and inwardly swearing he'd exact vengeance upon the man who had influenced Lucario in such a way, but Lucario momentarily dissolved Link's anger by chuckling again as he leaned forward and ruffled Vick's silver-blonde ponytail with obvious affection. Vick laughed with him and shrugged dismissively, saying, "What was I supposed to do? The guy needed me. He was so caught up in his own negative feelings… I really hate to see good people wallowing, that's all."

Lucario's eyes flitted unconsciously in Link's direction at Vick's words to find the Hylian watching him somewhat protectively; it stung Link significantly when Lucario glanced quickly away, looking betrayed. Vick seemed to realize she had addressed a sore subject and moved for a minor subject change almost as easily as Falco had. "So you guys dig the tattoo, or what?"

"Totally loving it." Ike, standing against the wall at Lucario's end of the couch, rifled through the short but supple fur covering Lucario's right side with one hand. "Though I'm a little confused as to how a guy covered in fur managed to get a tattoo—technology these days baffles me."

_Use your imagination_, Lucario told Ike sternly, but he followed his response with a disarming wink that had them all laughing again. Link scowled disapprovingly at the way Mewtwo grinned almost admiringly at Lucario, feeling suddenly like the only man not invited to a grand party.

"So Vick," asked Falco good-naturedly. "You sticking around?"

The shapely bartender checked the time on her cellular phone. "Probably for a couple of hours, but I have to meet Toshi around four to restock the bar and get The Shadow ready for tonight."

_Ah, I almost forgot, I have a job now,_ lamented Lucario with another laugh; the musical sound of it sent a spasm of agony ripping through Link's heart, and when the pain of it showed through onto the Hylian's face Falco patted his friend bracingly on the shoulder. Lucario's eyes had narrowed into slits as he turned to face Mewtwo; the psychic Pokemon's face had turned similarly serious and he glanced back without blinking. _In that case, Mewtwo, I think perhaps we should get on with things. We agreed that we have a score to settle, did we not?_

Link cocked an eyebrow interestedly and turned his questioning gaze Falco's way; the avian shrugged his lithe shoulders in wordless response, clearly just as out of the loop as Link. Only Vick, still leaning back against Lucario's legs, seemed in the know: a tiny grin of anticipation had curled up one corner of her full lips.

Mewtwo copied Falco and shrugged, almost as though he wasn't at all interested, but the way his violet eyes sparkled with almost manic intensity belied the way he truly felt. _I wouldn't go so far as to call this a score that needs settling, my old friend; it isn't as though we hold some sort of grudge against one another, is it? Rather, we have a curiosity that needs satisfying, and if you are still willing, I would be more than happy to oblige you._

"Hold on," Ike cut in, his eyes rather wider than usual. "You two are gonna scrap?"

"I don't know if that's a very good idea," said Pit uneasily, appearing more than a little uncomfortable with the idea. "The last time there was a fight here Wolf almost killed Falco, remember?"

Fox twisted his neck to glare up at Wolf, who was snickering devilishly in his rich, low baritone. "I thought we agreed we weren't going to try to kill mercs from rival squads while we were on leave?"

"He rubbed me the wrong way," said Wolf simply, his tone dismissive. "You can't expect me to take a threat lying down, Fox—I've never been the yielding type. Besides, I never intended to kill him, despite what these fools might think."

Surprisingly, Falco came to Wolf's aid. "It's true, Fox; he had me at gunpoint and let me go. If he was really serious about killing me in the offseason, he wouldn't have passed up an opportunity like that."

"Though I might make an exception for you, Fox," teased Wolf wickedly, tightening his arm around the slightly smaller, less-stocky vulpine still trapped at his side. "Do you have any idea how rich killing you would make me? I could live off the bounty and dodge Andross's service for the rest of my life. I could retire the youngest and most successful hired gun in the business."

The tension had been escalating ever since Lucario had taken the opportunity to remind Mewtwo of their impending feud; now, coupled with the veiled threat on Fox's life, the anxiety was almost tangible. Lucario and Mewtwo were still glaring at one another in an amused yet deadly serious way, and at Wolf's side Fox was looking unmistakably agitated.

Amazingly it was Blaze who next spoke, her arms crossed and her golden eyes upon Wolf brimming with obvious displeasure. "You cannot possibly be serious. You have just admitted that this man is your lover, for all intents and purposes—do you mean to say that you would do away with him, just like that, all for an increase in pay?"

Wolf bared his canines, so wide was his answering smile. "If I felt so inclined."

"That is utterly despicable. If you insist on engaging in a battle based on such self-centered designs, I will have no choice but to step in and dispose of you myself."

Fox cleared his throat almost timidly, earning a laugh from Ike, Midna, and Sonic all at once. "What did you say your name was—Blaze? Um, I appreciate the gesture, but I'm a paid killer, you know. I can take care of myself."

Any further protests Fox might have been planning to voice died instantly upon his tongue when Blaze turned her eyes upon him. "I am not insinuating that you are incapable of defending yourself, nor am I placing myself in this fight simply to protect you. I have been at odds with this one—" She jerked her head in Wolf's direction "—from the moment I arrived."

"You need to learn to let things go, honey," interjected Midna from the armchair near the kitchen, where she sat in a position that made the thin black shift she wore cling to her legs in a most provocative way. "Holding grudges isn't healthy. Though I'm sure that if you're dead-set on getting a piece of this action I could keep you entertained."

Blaze's eyes flashed in the Twilight princess's direction. "Is that a challenge?"

"Sure. It's about time I showed these boys that I'm not just here to sit around and look pretty."

"This is getting out of hand," Meta Knight spoke up bravely, his eyes glimmering out of the slats in his faceplate narrowed in their displeasure and uncertainty. "Three-on-three? I am not at all convinced that this is a good idea."

Lucario had yet to pry his eyes away from Mewtwo, who had yet to blink at all. _We will handle it. Though if you are as deeply concerned as you say, Meta Knight, I will always welcome your added protection and support. You are a mighty foe, as I recall from recent events, but an even mightier ally, if my memory serves me correctly._

Meta Knight seemed ready to accept yet still mildly skeptical, but he was quick to share his primary concern. "And if I agree, who will cross blades with me?"

Link opened his mouth to declare that he would participate—on the sole condition that he operated on Lucario's team, if only to protect the aura guardian from Mewtwo—but he didn't voice his offer fast enough. Marth shrugged away from the wall behind Midna's chair, looking determined. "I suppose I could. God knows it's long past time for me to step up and prove that I can still swing this thing."

He ended with a sigh, his eyes and his dominant hand upon the hilt of the fine sword Falchion.

"So… four-on-four?" clarified Sonic, standing a few feet away from Wolf and Fox, balancing easily upon his crutches. "Seriously?"

Everyone turned their attentions upon Lucario and Mewtwo, by all accounts the instigators, who each nodded once in turn. _It is agreed—four-on-four._

It was Vick who raised the obvious question. "How will you decide who fights with Lucario and who fights with Mewtwo?"

Lucario had already formulated an answer. _It is clear that Fox wishes to battle against Wolf, Midna against Blaze, and Meta Knight against Marth. All that need be done is the process of choosing. Perhaps you would like to do the honor of picking your first teammate, Mewtwo?_

Mewtwo looked surprised and haughty. _You are comfortable letting your sworn opponent choose his first ally, knowing that you will be at a disadvantage in choosing second?_

_There is no disadvantage to be had—it matters little who you choose, for it will not affect the outcome of your battle with me. You are destined to fall by my hand, as I am certain you have already ascertained for yourself._

Mewtwo leapt gracefully from the couch and moved across the sitting room floor to stand near the other kitchen entrance, crossing his arms adamantly across his narrow chest. Lucario's eyes were sparkling with mischievous laughter in the face of his adversary's animosity. _You are a fool, and I will prove it. For my first ally, I will choose the mercenary Wolf O'Donnell._

Wolf and Fox parted ways without a word, the former pausing at Falco's side to accept his belt of weapons from the avian and fasten it firmly around his waist. Lucario clapped Fox companionably upon the shoulder, seeming pleased with his first companion. _As I have already made clear to you, Meta Knight, I would most certainly value your support._

"Then you shall have it," said Meta Knight solemnly, "and everything else that I have to offer you." The smallest swordsman hopped down from his place upon the fireplace mantle and joined Lucario and Fox upon the couch; Marth crossed in front of the television to lean against the wooden frame leading into the kitchen, bringing him nearer to Mewtwo and Wolf.

The psychic Pokemon sized up the two female fighters that remained, both of whom were watching him expectantly, but not for long. _It seems pointless to choose you for my team, Blaze, since you have already made it clear that Wolf, more than anyone else, is your enemy. Therefore I must choose Midna._

"Suits me just fine," said Midna, rising smoothly from her armchair and moving for the kitchen doorway to congregate with the rest of her teammates. Once there she draped herself over Wolf's shoulder; Fox scowled openly while Wolf grinned somewhat victoriously.

"Can we get to the backyard?" suggested Falco, lifting himself off the loveseat. "Before they destroy the house?"

It seemed like a novel idea, so the entire group traipsed through the kitchen and out onto the back porch. Once there, the eight combatants descended the wooden porch steps into the grassy yard, while the spectators took it in turns to scramble up the low-hanging eaves and clamber into sitting positions upon the roof. While the fighters settled into various warm-ups and stretching routines, Falco turned to the rest of the residents grouped on the rooftop. "So—bets?"

"You guys lay bets on this kind of stuff?" marveled Vick, and from one of the back pockets of her jeans she drew out an ultra-thin wallet and opened it. "I'm in, but how do you want to place it? We picking one team of four to win with a last man standing kind of arrangement, or individual one-on-one fights?"

"Just lay a bet, and we'll settle up when this insanity is over," laughed Falco.

Vick shrugged. "Okay, well, in that case…. I bet twenty bucks on Mewtwo's team to win overall, but I bet another twenty on Lucario to beat Mewtwo in a single match… twenty on Wolf to beat Fox… twenty on Meta Knight over Marth… and one more twenty says Midna will take Blaze down."

She laid out five crisp twenty dollar bills on the shingles in the center of their betting circle, prompting a baffled Pit to ask, "Where do you get all this cash?!"

"I tend bar six nights a week, I wear low-cut shirts, and I have a nice rack," stated Vick, in a tone that suggested the answer was an obvious one and that she was shocked to have to explain. Pit's cheeks abruptly turned pink and he waved the bet on in Link's direction, who almost immediately passed the offer around to Ike.

"I'll agree with you on a few counts and lay twenty each on Wolf and Meta Knight, but I'll take Blaze over Midna and Mewtwo over Luca. Oh, and Mewtwo's group will win outright, no contest. Falco?"

The avian took a few moments to consider the odds carefully before laying any bets of his own; finally he said, "Luca's team wins, but Lucario loses to Mewtwo. Fox, Blaze, and Meta Knight all win."

Kirby chattered to indicate that he wasn't interested in gambling, and as an afterthought Falco leaned forward and shouted down to the porch below, "Hey, pincushion! You interested in getting in on this? You might win enough cash to cover your medical bill!"

Vick and Ike both doubled up with laughter as Sonic's enraged voice wafted up to greet them. "I'll lay a hundred bucks on Blaze—and fuck off."

The gambling and intimidating banter were all interrupted when Lucario's voice drifted melodiously through all their minds simultaneously, though he was clearly talking to Mewtwo when he said, _Are you finished delaying? Are you prepared to battle us?_ As he finished his magnificent aura flared to life, surrounding him from head to toe with its radiance, and Blaze, Fox, and Meta Knight moved closer to the aura guardian looking suddenly serious.

_It will be our pleasure defeating you,_ Mewtwo responded, and as Midna, Wolf, and Marth drew level with him the psychic Pokemon lifted one paw up before him and summoned a gleaming orb of pure psychic energy, veritably blinding every onlooker with its intense magenta hue. _You will be sorry indeed that you accepted this challenge, my old friend._

_I doubt it,_ growled Lucario, in a tone that set the hairs on the back of Link's neck standing on end, and all eight combatants burst into motion at once.

Wolf and Fox were the quickest of any of the opposing pairs; Wolf, a seasoned veteran with experience beyond Fox's years, was quicker on the draw and managed to fire off the first shot from a custom made laser pistol. Fox, however, was no fool; years of battling opposite the infamous Wolf O'Donnell had clearly given him the inside track where the older and more vicious mercenary commander was concerned, so instead of reaching immediately for a weapon the younger mercenary captain used one of his single greatest advantages to keep himself alive—he flung himself nimbly to one side, using his speed to get him clear of the first shot. Undaunted by this move (and quite possibly expecting it) Wolf squeezed the trigger in rapid succession and fired off three more shots—all of which Fox managed to avoid by tucking into a roll, tucking one foot beneath him, and springing up into a dash. The first bullet sizzled into the grass several inches from Fox's right leg, the second whizzed harmlessly past the vulpine's left ear, and the third wound up soaring wide when Wolf misjudged the distance Fox could close between them in a short period of time. Up flashed Fox's dominant hand, a well-sharpened combat knife glinting in the light from the early afternoon sun, a stroke that even a veteran like Wolf couldn't hope to avoid completely—

-A much larger blade intervened, the finely-polished sword Falchion, and the instant Marth thwarted the strike he turned the interception into a clever parry and flicked Fox's stroke out wide. The younger mercenary commander scowled darkly and quick-stepped ahead, taking advantage of Marth's off-balance posture to slash horizontally across with his combat knife; Marth leaned his weight back upon his trailing foot and managed to lessen the blow, earning him only a torn over-shirt instead of a torn stomach.

Meta Knight rushed in to seize the opportunity Fox had left him, lunging forward with Galaxia's sword-tip aimed for Marth's unguarded side, but he underestimated the amount of support Wolf was prepared to bring to his teammates. As Marth rearranged his feet and brought his sword around to block—far too slow to thwart Meta Knight—Wolf pivoted and fired a single shot that glanced off Galaxia's serrated golden blade. The bullet of laser energy didn't jar the sword from Meta Knight's hand, but the impact sent stinging reverberations into the smallest swordsman's fingers that easily kept the jab from striking home. Galaxia managed only to swipe at the air and tear a few seams from the trailing edge of Marth's fine cape, but nothing more, and the moment Marth had regained his balanced he turned to pursue Meta Knight in his moment of weakness.

The exiled prince might have succeeded, had he not been met by a veritable wall of flames; as it was, Marth had no choice but to strafe to one side just to avoid the inferno Blaze had summoned to shield Meta Knight from Marth's attack. Satisfied that she had kept one of her teammates from meeting an untimely end Blaze turned her head to regard Midna, who had been about to attack her flank only a fraction of a second before, only to find that the Twilight princess was no longer there.

With a laugh like a banshee Midna materialized from Blaze's own shadow, raking her left hand across Blaze's upper arm and leaving five long lines of blackened claw marks across the cat's flesh. Blaze hissed and spun to face her nemesis, fires dancing in her eyes, but not in time to keep Midna's other hand from clamping down on her wrist.

Blaze's body burst into flames.

Midna cried out and tore her hand free, but Blaze had accomplished what she had intended—the flames licked eagerly at the silken sleeve of Midna's thin black shift, gnawing their way quickly up the sleeve. Before the flames could engulf her completely Midna managed to grasp the expensive fabric at the shoulder and tear the entire sleeve off, casting it to the ground at her feet where it became little more than a pile of smoking ashes. Dissatisfied with the success of her attack Blaze waved one hand, preparing to launch a fireball that was certain to take care of the leader of the Twili—

-But she underestimated the precision with which Wolf could fire, and so took a laser bullet in the hand that seared into her palm and cut cleanly through the other side.

"That smarts," laughed Falco, unable to suppress a cringe.

Vick was shaking her head. "Jeez, when you guys fight, you really mean it. You're the real deal, huh?"

Blaze fell back, hissing angrily and nursing her mangled hand with the other, but both Midna and Marth saw her as a perfect target and pursued without hesitation. Unable to escape Blaze growled low in the back of her throat and prepared to summon another wall of fire in her defense, but she needn't have bothered; Meta Knight dashed forward to intercept Marth's downward swing and Fox let loose with a veritable hailstorm of laser bullets, so quick was his finger upon the trigger. With Fox's back turned Wolf lifted his gun with a victorious snicker and prepared to bury a barrage in his adversary's back—and could only laugh helplessly when, predictably, a brilliant blue Aura Whip lashed toward him and snapped the weapon from his hand with an effortless flick of its owner's wrist.

Lucario paid dearly for keeping Fox alive. Never one to pass up an opportunity of any kind Mewtwo willed his body to close the distance between him and Lucario, seizing the more diminutive Pokemon by the throat and lifting his free paw to strike out with an orb of psychic energy. The aura guardian reversed the whip's direction in an attempt to force his enemy back, but Mewtwo was ready for such a maneuver; through sheer force of will he propelled Lucario away from him, and as Lucario spun out-of-control into the air Mewtwo launched not one, but three globes of psychic force that all pummeled Lucario square in the chest.

Mewtwo continued to press his advantage, springing from the ground like a predator stalking prey and readying yet another psychic blast. When it seemed that Lucario couldn't possibly evade the aura guardian lashed out one last time with the Aura Whip—but it was not a strike, and it was not intended for Mewtwo.

Meta Knight broke away from the cluster of skirmishes occurring on the ground and stabbed Galaxia into the air like a lightning rod; the whip twined around the proffered blade, Lucario's true target, and with a strength that seemed beyond him Meta Knight heaved the sword downward and snapped the whip taut. Lucario smirked at Mewtwo before streaking past him and toward the ground; Mewtwo sailed past, unable to correct direction as quickly.

But Lucario was far from finished; even as he soared downward he twisted his body in mid-air, bringing him around to face Mewtwo and launching an Aura Sphere with his free hand. Still righting himself far above Mewtwo turned to come face-to-face with the crackling sphere; with no defense immediately available Mewtwo had no choice but to take the hit head-on.

Marth disengaged, leaving Midna to press the attack against the injured Blaze, and sprinted forward to attack the momentarily-weaponless Meta Knight.

But Meta Knight and Lucario trusted one another endlessly, knew one another unerringly in battle, and Lucario's bag of tricks knew no limits. Meta Knight extended one hand up above him , keeping a firm grip on Galaxia so that Lucario would not fly astray; dipping into the vast well of his aura Lucario summoned an Aura Sword and hurled it toward his comrade. Meta Knight caught the shining azure weapon with his free hand and whirled to face the oncoming Marth; Falchion arced in to defeat the smallest swordsman but was foiled by the Aura Sword.

Lucario landed nimbly upon his feet and tugged the Aura Whip free of Galaxia's blade before lashing it in Marth's direction; the length twined around Marth's upper body, trapping his arms at his sides, and Meta Knight brandished both swords as he advanced upon the exiled prince.

_Yield,_ came Lucario's stern command, as the tips of both Meta Knight's weapons settled upon Marth's stomach in silent warning.

Again, it was Wolf who interfered. While Fox continued to fire on Midna the older mercenary captain squeezed off yet another extraordinary shot, this one severing the Aura Whip in the center of its length; the moment the whip dropped harmlessly to the ground Marth snapped Falchion up, effectively forcing both Galaxia and the Aura Sword away from his belly. The Aura Sword winked out of existence and Meta Knight and Marth danced ferociously around one another, the swordfight on in full now.

Lucario turned, in time to see Mewtwo alight effortlessly upon the grass, and in response his aura flared to life around him once more. Mewtwo, if possible, was grinning.

_Clever,_ Mewtwo congratulated, soundly mildly impressed. _You have learned a few new tricks since last we met, haven't you?_

_More than a few,_ Lucario corrected, _as you will soon discover._

"I knew I should have gotten in on this one," lamented Ike, balancing his chin upon one fist and looking unmistakably glum. "What a show."

Pit was shaking his head. "No way, not me… they'd have killed me off in the opening thirty seconds."

"Come on, Pit, be fair," laughed Falco. "Ten seconds is definitely closer to the truth."

For the first time since any of them had arrived at Brawlers Mansion, Pit actually cursed.

Blaze chose that moment to prove that she was made of tougher stuff. Pierced hand tucked defensibly close to her body she threw her other hand out before her, scorching the ground at Midna's feet and forcing the princess of the Twili to stop several feet short of the cat. With a snarl Midna flung a ribbon of shadow in Blaze's direction; the strip of darkness wound itself around Blaze's head and slipped down over her eyes, in effect blinding her. Sensing a victory coming on Midna leapt forward, only to shrink back a second time when Blaze surrounded her entire body with flames again.

Fox made a run in the blinded cat's direction, all the while jumping, strafing, and rolling in order to avoid numerous laser bullets Wolf sent his way. Coming up behind Blaze, Fox slashed the shadow ribbon and sent it fluttering to the ground; when Midna rose up out of Fox's shadow the mercenary tripped over one of the Twilight princess's own feet and went sprawling, but Blaze caught Midna's arm by the elbow and ignited flames directly on Midna's exposed flesh. Shrieking in agony Midna twisted her arm to free herself, but to no avail; Blaze growled low in the back of her throat and dug her nails into the dark flesh, unwilling to release her enemy.

The magenta psywave struck Blaze from behind, triggering the precise part of the brain that invoked passive behavior, and as Mewtwo's massive psychic headache rolled over Blaze the cat released Midna's arm and collapsed to her knees, unable to even focus her vision.

Meta Knight bravely stepped in; while Mewtwo was busy bringing Blaze to her knees the smallest swordsman unfurled his cape to free his wings, flapped hard to rise into the air, and brought Galaxia's golden pommel smashing down on the back of Mewtwo's head. The maneuver worked; the pain of the blow broke Mewtwo's concentration, and Blaze regained her senses just in time to roll to one side. The bullets from Wolf's laser pistol left burn marks in the ground in the precise spot where Blaze had been crouching only a second before.

Lucario dipped into the reserves of his aura, bringing forth another Aura Whip, and in the instant before the stars cleared from Mewtwo's vision the aura guardian lashed the whip around one of Mewtwo's legs, up around his hips, around both arms, and around his chest. Eyes flashing an unnerving white Mewtwo sent another psywave spiraling toward Lucario, but Lucario's mental facilities were almost as keen as Mewtwo's and he managed to shrug off the influence that threatened his willpower, clinging to the whip for support.

_You cannot honestly expect to keep me immobilized with such crude tactics for long,_ drawled Mewtwo, flexing his arms against the irksome bindings, but the Aura Whip did not strain, and Lucario did not budge. _Do not make me show you the true depths of my power—your life will be forfeit._

"You certainly think a lot of yourself!" exclaimed Blaze, sounding quite annoyed, and coming up on one knee she flicked a finger in Mewtwo and Lucario's direction. Mewtwo chuckled sadistically and pushed a shield of pure psychic energy out before him, protecting himself from the pyrokinetic attack he was certain the cat had fired upon him.

But Mewtwo was not Blaze's intended target. The Aura Whip was.

A bead of flame settled upon the length of the whip that connected Mewtwo and Lucario, and using her command of all things fire Blaze managed to send the dancing flames rushing along the whip only in Mewtwo's direction. Sensing that he had made an incorrect assumption Mewtwo dismissed the psychic shield he had erected between himself and Blaze, but before he could conjure up another the flames had eaten their way along the length, curling around the psychic Pokemon's leg and shooting up his body. Fox and Meta Knight, both also considering Mewtwo to be their single greatest opponent in this group match, raised weapons and made with all speed toward their immobilized nemesis, as at practically the same instant Midna, Marth, and Wolf all turned to pursue.

But despite the fact that the Aura Whip was cutting cruelly into his skin, and the flames were inching all along his skin, Mewtwo still managed to open his now-chillingly white eyes and let loose an orb of psychic energy that rolled like a shockwave over the backyard. As strong as their wills were the sphere still drove Meta Knight, Blaze and Fox to their knees; Lucario's telepathic voice rose into a howl of agony in the minds of the spectators but he still managed to remain upright, and even Mewtwo's three allies stumbled and clutched their heads confusedly.

Mewtwo's second psywave impacted Lucario hard, so hard that the Aura Guardian actually released his hold on the azure whip he held, and the flaming weapon winked out of existence.

The battlefield exploded into motion as all at once, eight combatants moved.

Wolf strafed left to avoid the five missiles of flame that sparked from Blaze's fingertips, hefted his gun with one weakening arm, and unleashed a merciless barrage upon Fox as the vulpine struggled to rise; unable to take his feet in time Fox pivoted on one knee, swinging his own laser pistol around and launching his own assault right back at Wolf. The two mercenaries, too exhausted to run or even defend themselves, could only squeeze their respective triggers and wince away the pain as bullet after bullet of laser energy sliced through flesh.

"Fucking fall down," Wolf grunted, blood spurting from dozens of wounds. "I don't want to have to kill you."

"You first," Fox managed to pant, teeth gritted against the sting, as ever-so-slowly his vision began to darken.

Vick leapt to her feet looking undeniably concerned—so concerned that she appeared to be contemplating rushing out into the battlefield to stop the fighting—but Falco laid one feathered hand across her forearm and shook his head once. "It's no use. This is just what we do."

Fox and Wolf simultaneously ceased firing on one another, shoulders heaving from the effort it took just to draw breath, and stared one another down as threateningly as they could manage.

"Call it a draw?" wheezed Fox, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the grass as he finished.

"Sounds smart and healthy to me," Wolf agreed, and the pair collapsed, unconscious, upon the sun-warmed grass.

"Will they be alright?" whispered Vick, her fingers covering her mouth, her storm-gray eyes wide with horror.

"Are you kidding?" chuckled Falco, patting the female's bartender's arm reassuringly. "They'll be up, about, and drinking their aches and pains away tonight at The Shadow."

"Don't worry about them," Ike cut in. "Look around you—every single person here is one of the strongest in any world you could think of. It would take more than a few laser bullets to put one of those guys down. They're killers-for-hire. Shit like today is just standard kosher for them."

Vick nodded once, but didn't seem entirely convinced; her eyes had moved upon Lucario, who was still battling it out with Mewtwo, and Falco slung his arm around her shoulder.

Off to one side, Marth swung Falchion in a wide horizontal arc that forced Meta Knight back several steps. This left the exiled prince's weight distributed mostly upon his leading foot, and Meta Knight threw all caution to the winds in order to seize a single opportunity; Galaxia spun from his hand like a boomerang, whizzing end-over-end past Marth's planted left leg.

The sword continued on its way, a spattering of dark blood and an awful scream the only sign that the blade had found its mark and almost neatly sliced out the hamstring of Marth's right leg. Animalistic cry still tearing itself from Marth's throat the exiled prince collapsed; Vick gasped and stumbled yet another step forward, but Falco's arm tightened around her shoulders and managed to keep her in place.

It was several seconds after he had begun an uncharacteristically cocky approach that Meta Knight realized his error – the same moment Marth lifted himself up with one arm and similarly whipped Falchion into a desperate spinning throw. Meta Knight's wings, still unfurled from his skull bash against Mewtwo, were sliced almost completely from his body and he, too, fell into the grass.

"Draw," pleaded Marth, a whine apparent in his voice, blood pooling around his torn and mangled leg.

"Agreed," rasped Meta Knight, his ruined wings twitching with spasmodic agony, and they slumped into unconsciousness together.

"Pit," hissed Ike immediately. "Get down there and help them, Marth will bleed out and if you don't hurry Meta might lose the use of his wings completely."

Palutena's emissary didn't need telling twice, and with a powerful surge of his wings he swept down upon the two fallen combatants. Link and Kirby rose from the sun-baked shingles of the roof and joined Vick and Falco at the precipice, looking similarly anxious.

Blaze's eyes flitted all around, blood still seeping from her clenched and trembling hand, searching the shadows of the kneeling Pit and the fiercely-battling Lucario and Mewtwo for any sign of her wily opponent. It wasn't until several inches of Galaxia's serrated blade slipped almost easily into her back that Blaze suddenly remembered that unconscious bodies still have shadows, and Midna proved just that as she rose out of Meta Knight's barely-visible shadow and used the smallest swordsman's weapon to put Blaze down.

But it was Lucario, dazed, disoriented Lucario, who mustered the unbelievable strength to pull himself out of the most recent psychic headache and launch the Aura Sphere that sent the Twilight Princess crashing to the ground. Once there, Midna did not move.

Mewtwo's body blurred as he used his pure psychic energy to move through the air, coming up behind Lucario and driving his elbow into the sensitive spot at the base of the Pokemon's skull. The blow didn't jolt Lucario from consciousness, but it did drive him down to his knees; panting for breath he knelt there, feeling Mewtwo's hand rest ominously upon one of his slender shoulders.

_I am ready to accept your unconditional surrender_, drawled Mewtwo, his voice dripping with superiority. _Look around you. Your team has been decimated._

Even as he finished Mewtwo sent a low-powered psychic current buzzing from his fingertips and over Lucario's skin; the Aura Guardian hissed at the pain but did not collapse. _As has yours_.

_That is true, but you have reached the end of your strength and I could battle on for hours yet. Do not make me kill you. It would be such a waste._ Mewtwo finished by sighing tragically, and Vick growled angrily as beside her, Link's eyes washed black with hatred. _Submit to me._

Lucario somehow managed a laugh, turning his head ever-so-slightly to look at the man towering over him. _You would enjoy that, wouldn't you?_

The weakened, almost nonexistent aura that still shimmered around Lucario pulsed radiantly, so bright that the onlookers had no choice but to avert their eyes or become forever blind; it washed over every millimeter of Mewtwo's skin, pain so acute that the psychic Pokemon was certain his body had just been doused in scalding hot water. In the waning moments of his consciousness, though, Mewtwo maintained the presence of mind to deal the blow that would eliminate Lucario, a psychic current so strong that it was the exact equivalent of receiving a high-frequency electric shock.

The last thing Lucario heard was Vick's panic-stricken scream, stabbing into his heart like an arrow, and then the grass rushed up to meet him.

* * *

><p>Though they reached the hospital in record time, Lucario, Mewtwo, Midna, and Marth were all awake when they were rushed to the emergency room. Marth's hamstring was relatively easy to reattach (or so the surgeons tried to assure the others); the stab wound to Blaze's back had been expertly administered—Midna had missed all vital organs and done little more than tear through some muscle that would heal quickly. Lucario and Mewtwo were depleted and exhausted from their efforts but otherwise mostly unhurt, and aside from some truly spectacular bruising Midna would also walk away unscathed.<p>

In the end, it was Wolf, Fox, and Meta Knight who were in the worst physical shape. There was debate that Fox would need a blood transfusion to survive the rest of the afternoon, but when his vital signs stabilized the hospital staff agreed to hold off and keep him under surveillance. It turned out to be an unnecessary stage, as both he and Wolf awakened a few hours later, but the doctors still insisted on keeping both mercenaries overnight just to be on the safe side. There was much talk of amputating what remained of Meta Knight's wings, but the other residents of Brawlers Mansion shot that idea down at once; surgeons worked for several hours to repair the damage and had positive news to report, just before Vick and Lucario left for their shifts at The Shadow. Despite intermittent periods of numbness and a complete loss of feeling at the wingtips the wings would still be functional, though they would never return to their former strength.

Eventually the others left the hospital, confident that Wolf, Fox, Marth, and Meta Knight would be well enough to join them back at Brawlers Mansion in twenty-four hours' time; since Lucario and Vick were already at The Shadow (and the decision to ingest several alcoholic beverages was unanimous), Link, Falco, Midna, Ike, Pit, Blaze, and Mewtwo all headed into town to join them.

"I don't get it," mumbled Link gloomily, swilling his Crown and Coke with a swizzle stick and shooting another mutinous glance toward Lucario's DJ station. "What does Mewtwo have that I don't?"

He was slouched at the end of the bar furthest from the dance floor, where currently the majority of The Shadow's patrons were spinning chaotically to DJ Luca's most recent techno odyssey beneath frenetically flashing lights (Midna and Ike among them); as Lucario mixed his music he seemed to be holding a conversation with Mewtwo, who looked both mysterious and dangerous lingering half within the shadows of the sound equipment surrounding the DJ station. Only Falco had been brave enough to withstand Link's foul mood and sat with the Hylian at the bar, where every so often Vick would slide Link another full drink and shoot him yet another pitying glance. Link hated her sympathy.

Watching Lucario and Mewtwo interact, Falco said, rather thoughtlessly, "Um… a mutual interest?"

Link's eyes flashed. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

But Falco didn't seem to be in the mood to baby Link, as he scoffed almost cruelly and snapped, "Oh, Link, don't be so dense—you're not Ike, so don't pretend you're an idiot. Since the second he walked through our door Mewtwo has been giving Lucario the one thing he wants—the time of day. You're clearly crushing on Lucario, but what have you done since you figured that out? Kept him at arm's length, wallowed in your own insecurity, and bitched at me about it?"

The Hylian could do nothing but stare back at the avian with a mildly hurt expression. "Jeez, Falco…."

"Don't WHINE at me!" growled Falco, rolling his eyes and gratefully accepting another Corona from Vick, who seemed to be going out of her way to cater to them despite The Shadow's near-to-bursting capacity. "Be honest—did you really think Lucario would put up with your angst forever? And do you really have room to complain? You strung him along and then slept with somebody else, for shit's sake! If anything, I'd applaud Lucario. He could have rolled over in misery, but he seems to be doing well for himself. I'd just about bet that the second he started oozing melancholy, Vick whipped him into shape. She doesn't seem like the type to put up with much drama."

Falco finished by casting a fleeting glance Vick's way, and Link almost did a double take—was it longing? But the slip only lasted a split second before Falco had recovered himself. "You and Mewtwo aren't that different, you know, besides the moronically obvious difference in species. You're both seriously attractive, and powerful, and undeniably capable, but the biggest difference is that you HESITATED. Mewtwo recognized his attraction for Lucario and capitalized."

By now Link was ignoring his drink and staring across the establishment at the joyous-faced Lucario as he played, obvious adoration in his eyes, and Falco sighed again despite himself and dropped a hand upon the Hylian's shoulder bracingly. Link looked back at Falco, hurt but somehow grateful. "I know that you're right about all this, but it doesn't make it any easier. It's not like I didn't want to be with Lucario, I just… didn't know how."

"I know that, buddy," agreed Falco empathetically. "But as much as I hate to admit it, I think you missed your window of opportunity."

Glancing wistfully back at Lucario, Link couldn't help but begrudgingly admit to the truth in Falco's assessment.

* * *

><p>In the thirty seconds that elapsed between songs, Lucario and Mewtwo engaged in a rather loaded conversation.<p>

_You don't intend to stay, do you?_ Lucario blurted out, surprised by his own straight-forwardness.

Mewtwo shoved away from the amplifier against which he had been leaning and padded forward a step, his eyes never leaving the Aura Guardian's even for a moment. _I was planning on moving on after a day or two, but my business can be postponed if need be. There is nothing so important that I must depart this very second_.

Lucario's eyes-only smile was apparent even in the confusion lighting. _I'm reluctant to see you go, Mewtwo. This day has been pleasant. The fight in particular was exquisite. You've tested me more than anyone else here has_.

_And that is why you want me to stay?_ asked Mewtwo, attempting to keep his voice idle but failing to extinguish the smallest trace of annoyance. _That I might continue to test the limits of your battle endurance?_

Lucario saw little point in lying. _No._

The set of Mewtwo's brow changed from mild anger to curiosity. _No?_

_That's what I said—no. I want you to stay, but not because I am so interested in fighting you._

Mewtwo caught on to the change in the tenor of the conversation instantly, as though a switch had been flipped in his mind—or perhaps he was already there, waiting for Lucario to catch up. _I see. Then what is it you are interested in?_

The response was simple and cryptic all at once. _You._

Lucario started the next song then, dropping his eyes to his soundboard, but though the conversation was over neither had put it out of their minds.

* * *

><p>Ike slouched into a stool at the bar, one that, Vick noticed with a smirk, just happened to be right in front of her section. She sidled over after a solid minutes' worth of prolonging her own approach, bringing two shots with her and sliding one into Ike's hand. "That's on me, meathead."<p>

"You're an expert at insulting and complimenting a guy all in one fell swoop, you know that?" laughed the former mercenary, hardly contemplating the shot glass's contents as he raised it to mouth level.

She winked one storm-gray eye at him—the lights flashed, casting her face in a very flattering magenta hue—and clinked her glass against his. "I've practically made it my life's work."

Simultaneously they downed the shots. Ike's eyes flitted up and down her body in half the span of one heartbeat. As she took the glass from him and wiped it out with a rag draped over her shoulder he observed, "You seem to be warming up to me."

"Seeing you all fight each other has really changed my perspective on this bunch," Vick admitted, her face growing introspective. "Already I feel like I've known Lucario for years, for example, and he could have died today…. There's no point keeping you all at arm's length knowing I could lose one of you tomorrow."

A different bartender—another woman, though much less beautiful than Vick, Ike noticed—dropped a Jack and Coke down next to Ike's hand. The ex-mercenary instantly took a sip, but his eyes were still on Vick. "That's deep. But like we tried to tell you this afternoon, it's just what we do. Everybody in that house could wade through an army of one hundred soldiers without getting a single scratch. The only reason we whip the shit out of each other so bad is 'cause we're all on about the same combative level."

"Still," muttered Vick with a sigh, stacking several more empty glasses on a tray and handing the tray off to another passing bartender, "it's unsettling. I've never really had many friends, you know, and since I met you guys you've made me feel really welcome. I guess I'm being overprotective."

"It's different for you because you don't have the abilities we have," Ike pointed out, taking another swig of Jack and Coke—a swig which, consequently, drained half the glass. "If you could wield a sword like Meta Knight can, or melt into shadows like Midna, or if you had Lucario's Aura, you wouldn't worry so much. Don't read too much into this, but you're just a human—if you had our talents you wouldn't be so bent out of shape. We're not fragile like you are. We can take a beating and keep on ticking."

This last earned a laugh from Vick, the sound of which shocked Ike—it wasn't harsh or coarse like he'd imagined it would be, but clear, pleasant, and undeniably feminine. He found it incredibly attractive.

"You're right," agreed Vick, though her eyes still looked uncertain. "It was just so surreal, seeing them all in the hospital, surrounded by doctors…."

Ike nodded and did his best to look understanding, though privately he admitted that he had no idea was "surreal" meant. He settled for asking, "You gonna be alright?"

She bit her bottom lip, but nodded. "Just not looking forward to going back to my place alone when my shift is over."

By now Ike had finished his drink and was holding another; he glanced up interestedly at Vick's last words to find her watching him suggestively from behind the curtain of her silver-blonde hair. Deciding to press his luck he leaned a little closer and murmured huskily, "Well, you know, you only have to be alone if you wanna be."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Ike shrugged his burly shoulders. "You could stay with me."

Vick's eyes seemed almost maliciously amused. "You're serious?"

"Do I seem like the kind of guy who would dick around about something like that?"

Ike knew he had won when Vick winked at him again and said, "Interesting choice of words."


	11. The One Where Wolf Plays Deal or No Deal

Link didn't sleep well, too haunted by the memory of Lucario and Mewtwo sharing suggestive glances to find much rest, so before the other residents had even begun to trickle into the kitchen for breakfast he stole the keys to Ike's Jeep and sped toward the hospital in Mushroom Kingdom. Once there he gladly filled out the necessary paperwork and waited a little while, somehow mildly pacified to be in strange environment by himself. When Wolf, Fox, Marth, and Meta Knight were all released to return home he drove them back to the mansion gratefully, listening contentedly to their jokes but not participating, happy for once just to blend into the background.

It was hard to say whether Fox or Wolf looked the worse for wear. Both were veritably covered in bandages but seemed alert and responsive, and already they were planning a rematch between themselves. Marth had come out of his surgery well; the hamstring had been reconnected and was now securely taped and braced. He could walk without crutches, but with a slight limp. Meta Knight seemed the glummest by far; his wings were in awkward slings arched over his back but the contour had been completely repaired using a synthetic fabric closely akin to the leathery webbing that had constituted his wings before. He wouldn't know for several days if they would function normally, he told Link unhappily, until the slings had been removed and his mobility retested.

Breakfast was on the table – sausage patties, mounds of bacon, and heaps of toast – when Link led the other four into the kitchen. Kirby chattered excitedly and curled himself into Marth's stomach when they wandered in, and Lucario, Pit, and Blaze were already seated around the table. Link made a point of piling food on his plate and turning his back immediately on Lucario, seating himself at the high top breakfast bar even though the seat on the Pokemon's right was vacant, though Lucario hardly looked up. Lucario's dismissal stung Link's insides.

The Hylian's irritation dissolved almost completely, though, when quite unexpectedly Vick Ralis walked into the kitchen, yawned heavily, and said, "Ooh, breakfast, can I have some?"

She had already taken a plate from Kirby and was smearing strawberry jam on her toast when Link said, "Yeah, of course, but what are you doing here?"

She tossed her hair over her shoulder, the light shimmering through it like moonbeams, and winked when she said, "I, ah, had a little sleepover."

Everyone was staring at her now, though no one seemed to know just who she had been sleeping with. Vick finished preparing her plate and sat down beside Lucario, who leaned over, kissed her on the forehead in greeting, and asked the question they had all been dying to have answered: _Um, Victoria, who brought you here? If it isn't too bold of me to inquire, of course._

Vick waved her hand negligently to indicate that she didn't care in the slightest. It was at that precise moment that Link recognized, with a jolt, that Vick was wearing a familiar undershirt over her jeans that was several sizes too big for her.

Ike's undershirt.

"Yeah, Luca, it doesn't bug me, it's fine…. Ike brought me here. Good God I'm exhausted, that boy kept me up 'til – "

The things that happened in the middle of Vick's sentence were almost simultaneous; the first was that Lucario stood up so fast that the movement sent his chair flying, and with one arm he sent Vick flying out of her chair and backward into the wall in such a way that he was concealing her behind him. Link leapt up and unsheathed his sword, just in time to intercept a blow from Marth's sword that would have easily cleaved Vick in two had the Hylian not intervened. Blaze darted from her seat and wrapped her arms around Vick consolingly, her dangerous eyes fixed upon Marth in a way that clearly conveyed she would barbeque him if he moved another muscle. Everyone else wisely shoved away from the table.

"What the fuck is your problem?!" shrieked Vick, her eyes overbright with tears of terror, and Blaze tightened her arms in an attempt to keep the other woman calm. "You almost killed me!"

Marth launched a second, even more complex, sword pattern; Link, stern faced, parried each blow harmlessly away but made no move to take the offensive. The exiled prince's eyes were writhing with fury; he looked deranged. "YOU BITCH! YOU SLEPT WITH IKE?! WHAT THE FUCK DID I EVER DO TO YOU?! YOU GODDAMNED WHORE!"

He feinted masterfully, so convincingly that Link fell for it and wound up flat on his back on the linoleum when Marth used his sword to sweep Link's feet out from under him, but when Marth dashed in to confront Lucario he may as well have been striking a brick wall with a feather. Lucario growled, the sound a low and terrifying reverberation through all their minds, and the Aura that pulsed from him sent Marth crashing against a wall ten feet away. The sword dropped from his limp fingers, and his head cracked against the plaster with a sound like a gunshot. Wolf and Fox each seized one of his arms before he could get his bearings.

Vick's fear and anger vanished almost instantly; from the protective circle of Blaze's arms she leaned forward and asked, "I don't understand…. Why would that bother you so much?"

And suddenly, everyone understood. Link glanced up at Vick from his position on the floor, recognizing the obvious confusion in her eyes, and hated to be the one to ask the question that would undoubtedly cause Marth an unbelievable amount of pain. "Vick, you knew that Ike and Marth were sleeping together already, didn't you?"

Vick's expression changed again in the blink of an eye, her eyes overwhelmed this time with regret. No one was surprised by her answer. "Oh my God, WHAT?! No! I had no clue! Ike never said – "

Blaze stroked one hand along Vick's forehead – Vick flinched a little at the contact, presumably from the cat's abnormally high temperature – and murmured, "It's alright. This isn't your fault."

But Vick had dissolved into tears, shaking her head, stretching one hand out toward Marth, who remained crumpled and motionless against the wall. "Marth, please, I'm so sorry, I didn't know, you have to believe me…."

Lucario's eyes finally returned to their normal color and the Aura blazing blue fires around his body suddenly dissipated, and turning he held out his arms as Blaze ushered Vick toward him. He stroked one paw patiently through her hair, his soothing telepathic voice uttering nonsense words into her mind, and gradually she calmed and sobbed quietly into his chest. The others' eyes were upon Marth, whose eyes were dark and empty like bottomless pits.

"There's only one way to settle this," he choked out in a hoarse whisper.

And at that precise moment, Ike padded into the kitchen with a yawn. He noticed Vick crying soundlessly in Lucario's arms before he noticed anything else and cut off his yawn immediately, asking "Whoa, everything okay?"

Lucario glared in Ike's direction, his normally docile amber-ruby eyes a forbidding crimson, and snapped, _Why don't you ask Marth?_

Ike turned his head so sharply that they heard his neck crick in protest, and his eyes fell upon Marth. An icy silence pressed in upon everyone's ears like a tangible weight. Then Ike said something incredibly stupid: "I didn't think you'd be home until later this afternoon…."

Marth was on his feet in an instant; Fox sniffed thoughtfully at the air and nudged Wolf in the ribs, pointing to Marth's bandage, which was stained with red. "Did you sleep with her?!"

Ike's burly shoulders slumped; behind him, Vick sobbed once audibly before falling silent again. "I…."

"Yes or no, Ike?!"

No one had ever seen Ike flinch, but he did at the tone in Marth's voice and admitted helplessly, "Yeah, I did."

At the confirmation of what had happened Lucario's eyes darkened to a rarely-seen red-black color, Link's hand around his sword hilt tightened, and Blaze momentarily lost her self control and set the kitchen cabinets on fire. Pit flexed his wings and beat them once, powerfully enough to put out the flames before they could do any real damage.

"And did you ever once stop to think about US?!" shrieked Marth, his voice shooting through two octaves in his fury. "Did you even tell Vick that you were already seeing someone?! I suppose that didn't matter to you, did it?! You figured you could sleep around with anybody you wanted, just like you did the last time we were together, and I'd be fine with it?!"

Ike opened and closed his mouth several times, looking a great deal like a fish out of water, but no words came out. Marth went for his sword but Wolf wisely hooked the toe of one boot beneath the blade and flicked it out of Marth's reach; Falco, edging uneasily toward the kitchen with one eyebrow raised questioningly, caught it easily.

"Did you tell her about us, or not?!" Marth demanded.

Ike didn't even bother to lie; he knew he had been caught. "No."

"How could you do this to me?" Marth implored, stalking forward and seizing the slightly taller and much bulkier man by the collar, giving him a desperate shake as if to bring him to his senses. "Do I mean absolutely nothing to you?"

Ike could only stare back into Marth's eyes, sorrow and regret evident in their depths, and utter a little grunt of pain when Marth's fist flashed up and broke his nose. Pit winced.

"You good for nothing son of a bitch," snarled Marth, and releasing Ike roughly he stalked out of the kitchen and out the door.

It was quiet in the kitchen for precisely five seconds, then Pit mercifully laid one hand on Ike's forearm and muttered, "Come on, I'll get you to the hospital to get your nose set."

Ike made no response to show that he had even heard Pit speak at all; his eyes were blank and emotionless as he stared at the door that Marth had disappeared through, and the angel practically had to yank him out of the kitchen.

By now, Vick had stopped crying; she pulled minutely out of Lucario's arms to look him in the eye when she asked croakily, "What did Marth mean when he said 'just like the last time we were together'?"

Lucario glanced over Vick's head in Link's direction, the only man left in the room who had been around to witness Ike and Marth's last doomed try at a relationship. Link heaved a sigh. "A few years ago they dated, yeah—right after the last crisis we all banded together to deal with. They were seeing each other for several months and Marth was under the impression that things were getting serious when he caught Ike sleeping with Roy, the champion of Pherae. To make a long story short, Ike insisted that they had never decided to make their relationship exclusive as a bullshit excuse to cover his tracks. They parted ways on hostile terms. Marth never got over him."

Wolf, new to this story, put in, "So this is just standard Ike behavior we're seeing here?"

Lucario answered him. _Perhaps, but that is not a valid excuse for what has happened here._

Perhaps the memory of Lucario's Aura Pulse sending Marth crunching into a wall was still fresh in Wolf's mind, because for once Wolf chose not to argue. Link nodded at Vick when he said, "You should really try and eat something."

Vick wrinkled her nose and shook herself out of Lucario's arms, turning her back on them all and walking dejectedly out of the kitchen. The words "I'm not hungry" floated back to meet them.

One by one the others returned to their breakfasts, though the dour atmosphere remained long after Vick departed.

* * *

><p>She found Marth sitting at the extreme edge of the backyard, the cuffs of his slacks rolled up to his knees and his feet soaking in the cool lake. He made no move to discourage her approach, despite the fact that Vick was certain he could hear her, and when she reached him she sat down at his side, staring sorrowfully across the gently rippling water's surface. Marth did not greet her, and for awhile they didn't speak to one another.<p>

When Vick couldn't stand the silence anymore she turned toward him—her eyes were brimming with tears again. "I'm sorry, Marth."

Marth didn't look at her, didn't answer at all to even show that he had comprehended her words. Vick waited until she was positive he had nothing to say, but the moment she shifted her weight to get up and walk away he barked out a bitter laugh. "I'm trying really hard to be mad at you, but I just can't. It's too bad. If I thought this was your fault, it would make things a little easier. If I could believe even for a second that you had known about Ike and me, and that you'd seduced him against his will, maybe this would be salvageable. But that's not true, is it?"

Vick's eyes widened. "You're asking _me_ for the recap?"

"Sure. You have no reason to lie to me. From everything I've heard, you're no more in the wrong than I am."

Vick took a moment to collect herself. "He started pursuing me that first night you all came to The Shadow to see Lucario play."

Marth laughed aloud, shaking his head. "Fuck, I was there! But I spent most of the night on the dance floor, and he was at the bar drinking his own body weight, the letch…."

"I wasn't really all that interested, honestly." Vick hoped Marth would hear the sincerity in her tone. "But after watching the fight yesterday… I don't know. I spent the entire rest of the day what-if-ing everything. Any one of you could have died…. Thinking about it made me feel vulnerable. I didn't want to be alone. He gave me the excuse I needed to forget about what I'd seen. I didn't turn him down."

Vick fell silent, looking intensely guilty, but the silence didn't last—shockingly, Marth laughed again. "That's so hopelessly Ike—preying on the vulnerability of others to get what he wants. And he really never told you about me-?"

"Not once. Neither did anyone else—but then again, no one knew that he was showing any interest in me, so no one had the opportunity to warn me."

Marth's voice turned bitter again. "Was he any good?"

Vick shrugged. "I've had better."

Marth sighed. "I haven't."

Vick reached over and patted him consolingly on the shoulder. Marth made no effort to move away. "I'll get him back for what he's done to you. It's the least I can do. Guilty or innocent, I was still directly involved, and I'm going to take the blame no matter what you say."

The exiled prince could tell by the steely edge to Vick's voice that he would never convince her otherwise, so he settled for asking, "How?"

"Just get him to The Shadow tonight, and I'll take care of the rest. "

Marth's face split into a grin, though the ghost of his despair lingered near his eyes. "I can do that. I'll be the one pissing himself drunk front and center at the bar."

"I'll be the one buying you whatever you want. I'll take care of you." Vick gave Marth's shoulder one last squeeze before pushing herself off the ground, dusting off the seat of her shorts, but Marth caught her before she could back away.

"Stop blaming yourself. You and I are square. I won't try to kill you again."

"Good to know," said Vick with a quiet laugh, and she retreated back toward the mansion to give Marth some time alone with his thoughts.

* * *

><p>Wolf was looking forward to a lazy afternoon—after all, he had only just left the hospital, and thought that pampering himself sounded like a capital idea. He was lounging against one of Marth's enormous bean bag chairs (which he had taken without asking permission, of course) and playing yet another stolen Xbox360 game—Fox and Falco were relaxing on the bottom bunk of Wolf's bed watching, the former just beginning to doze off—when Wolf's tiny silver cellular phone buzzed an incoming call.<p>

"Fox, you don't have to call me," said Wolf off-handedly, without looking up from his video game. "I'm only five feet away."

The vulpine yawned audibly, his maw stretching large enough to swallow a grapefruit whole. "I'm not calling you."

"Falco, pick up the phone, I'm on the best kill streak of my life here," whined the surly mercenary.

The avian reached for the phone resting on the bedside table, rolling his eyes at Fox as he did so, and answered on the fifth buzz. "You have reached the mobile phone of Wolf O'Donnell, most abhorred mercenary in the galaxy. Falco Lombardi speaking."

"If you can answer the phone like that word for word every time it rings," laughed Wolf, "I'll pay you to be my secretary for life."

Falco did not answer; he seemed very interested in what the speaker on the other end of the phone was saying. After about ten seconds of complete silence—even Wolf's keen ears couldn't pick up the words buzzing through the receiver—the lupine actually paused his game to look back. Falco's beak hung slightly slack, and he was wordlessly holding the cell out to Wolf. His expression was perfectly blank with shock.

"I… I didn't think he'd actually call!" Falco murmured hoarsely to Fox, who seemed to understand precisely what Falco meant by this and sat up immediately, obviously interested.

Wolf snatched the phone away impatiently and held it up to his ear looking unmistakably perturbed. "Alright, who the hell is this?!"

There followed a bemused laugh—a male's voice in a theatrical baritone—and the man on the other end of the line chuckled, "Mr. O'Donnell, this is Howie Mandel. I'm the host of the popular TV game show Deal or No Deal. How are you this afternoon?"

Wolf clicked the speakerphone button and tossed the phone into the center of the room; Fox and Falco slid off the bottom bunk, huddling around the phone so they could hear the voice on the other end. Crossing his arms Wolf took up his controller again. "Who is this really? How much did Falco pay you to make this call? Whatever you're selling, I'm not interested."

The man who called himself Howie Mandel laughed again—there was no mistaking that he was truly the man he claimed to be. "Mr. O'Donnell, I'm calling at the request of your two friends Fox McCloud and Falco Lombardi. They contacted me yesterday to nominate you to be a participant on the show. I weighed you carefully against the other hopeful candidates and decided that your need was greater than theirs, so I would like to offer you the opportunity to come and be a contestant! Are you interested?"

Wolf was shaking his head rapidly back and forth, as though having a difficult time digesting the information. "Back up a sec, there, Howie—what do you mean 'my need is greater than theirs'? In case you were misinformed by my two 'friends' here—" Wolf shot the other two mercenaries a venomous glare, "—I do happen to be a mercenary of no small renown—and not of reputable import, either."

"Mr. O'Donnell—"

"Look, Howie, let me spell it out for you—I get paid a stupid amount of cold hard cash to kill people. Probably people you know. So explain to me how that makes me needy."

Vick poked her head in the open doorway—presumably because she had heard Wolf's voice in the hallway. "What's going on?"

Falco waved her inside as Fox pressed a finger to his muzzle; at that moment, Howie Mandel decided to answer. "Mr. O'Donnell, I was told that you have recently acquired a great many things that, legally, do not belong to you, am I correct?"

Wolf snapped his angry eyes upon Falco, who suddenly became very interested in a loose thread poking out of the carpet and avoided his gaze entirely. The lupine sighed tragically. "Er… yeah, I suppose that's true. So what, if I don't agree to come play your moronic game show you'll turn me in to the cops? I kill law enforcement officials too, you know."

"I think you've misunderstood me, Mr. O'Donnell—quite the contrary, I have no intention of reporting you to the police. Mr. Lombardi suggested—and I have to admit, I find myself in agreement with him—that you would be less inclined to shoplift if you came into a rather large sum of money. That is to say, if you won on the show, you would acquire your possessions legally. Does that seem logical to you?"

Vick was staring at the silver cell phone with one perfect silver-blonde eyebrow raised curiously. Wolf tapped the claws of his left hand upon the video game controller, clearly agitated. "…Sure, I guess. If you've got cash, you might as well spend it."

"Which brings rise to an interesting question," Howie Mandel slipped in delicately. "If you really are a mercenary, and one of no small renown, as you say—what happened to all of your money?"

"That's really none of your goddamned business, Howie, but if you must know I used it to buy myself a new Arwing. SOMEBODY—" Wolf glared pointedly at Fox as he said this, "—might have obliterated my last one at the end of the most recent Lylat War."

"Fair enough." Howie Mandel's voice turned businesslike. "Mr. O'Donnell, are you interested in being a contestant?"

"What's top prize?"

"One million dollars."

"So if I won top prize it would be like getting paid the equivalent of killing General Pepper, only I wouldn't have to do any work, right?"

"Correct." If Howie Mandel found this line of questioning disconcerting, it was not apparent in his voice.

Wolf shrugged. "Yeah, okay, I'm game. When do I play?"

"Well, that's one of the problems—we start recording in an hour. I spent the last 48 hours trying to contact you at a different number and couldn't reach you. We are very short on time."

"Where's the studio where you shoot this show?" asked Fox, checking his watch.

"It's in Mushroom Kingdom—we're at a new location. Are you in the area?"

Falco was already on his feet and giving Vick a hand up. "We can be there in 20, Howie."

"Excellent. Oh, and Wolf, you're allowed a maximum of three guests on the show with you—you know, moral support and all that. Though we do request that you leave any and all weapons you may possess at your place of residence. This is, after all, a family game show."

Wolf rolled his eyes to the ceiling, glaring at the little silver phone in the palm of his hand as he leapt nimbly to his feet. "Don't worry, they took all my guns when I got here—I'm essentially under house arrest."

"Wonderful. I look forward to meeting you." The line disconnected before Wolf had the chance to reply; the lupine rounded instantly on his two rival mercenaries, looking dangerously disapproving.

"You nominated me for a game show just because I stole a few things from Wal-Mart?!" he howled at them, cracking his knuckles menacingly. "What's with you guys?! It was just a TV, and an Xbox360… and some games… oh, and the full Rock Band 2 kit… and…."

"THIS is exactly why we nominated you," Falco said with a laugh, pointing comically at Wolf as the older mercenary rattled off the list of electronics he had recently stolen. "I'd just as soon put you in jail myself for attempted assassination on our general than you landed yourself in the slam for something THIS stupid. So you're gonna go win some cash, and that'll be that. Got it?"

Fox glanced sidelong at Vick. "You coming along?"

Vick shrugged her slender shoulders once—she still didn't look quite herself, but the joke seemed natural enough when she laughed and answered, "Yeah, I guess I might as well—has he got any friends besides you two?"

Wolf glowered at her as the four of them trouped out the door.

* * *

><p>They headed out to Mushroom Kingdom in Fox's racy forest-green Camaro, the vulpine driving, Wolf riding shotgun and drumming his fingers restlessly on the dashboard, Falco sitting behind his mercenary commander and stealing surreptitious glances at Vick every few seconds. Lucario would want him to keep an eye on the bartender, he knew, and would have been just as disheartened as he was by the way she stared sadly at the window. The avian hoped that, by escaping the mansion and thus the scene of the morning's drama, she would recover a little faster.<p>

Besides, Falco thought silently with an inaudible snicker, it would be worth it just to witness the chaos Wolf would undoubtedly cause the moment the clock struck one in the afternoon.

Fox, just as prone to speedy driving as the other two mercenaries, found the studio in barely ten minutes' time. A crowd of seemingly random civilians—the studio audience for the game show, Falco hypothesized—glanced excitedly in their direction; several of their number nudged their neighbors, and even pointed toward the flashy vehicle as the four of them abandoned it.

"Are we about to get gang raped by a mob of obsessed game show viewers?" asked Fox, sounding unmistakably anxious as they approached the crowd.

"We wouldn't be," growled Wolf, grinding his canines together, "if you had let me bring my guns."

"You heard Howie," Falco snapped back. "No guns."

"We don't know this guy. We don't owe him anything. I say fuck him."

At that moment the private studio doors opened, and the four of them were saved the discomfort of encountering the crazed audience by the man who turned out to be their host. Howie Mandel was a suave, strapping gentleman, as it turned out; he was decked out in an obviously expensive black pinstriped suit (expertly tailored, of course) and shiny black dress shoes. The single earring he wore flashed the glare from the sun as he greeted them with a genuinely warm smile.

"Mr. O'Donnell," he smiled, taking Wolf's hand with both his own and shaking it as though they were old friends. "Welcome. Are you ready to win some money?"

"Now I didn't go to college, Howie, but I know that the answer to that question is always 'yes'," answered Wolf with a laugh like a bark, and releasing the lupine's hand Howie Mandel led them past the now-screaming audience and into the studio via the back entrance.

The studio appeared to be set and ready for the show that was about to be shot; the lights were up and Deal or No Deal cash board glimmered ominously each of its dollar amounts down at them in a rather tantalizing way. The general admission seating areas were all as yet vacant, but in the darkened room set into the wall above them a laptop computer screen flared to life and a shadowy, paunchy figure paced restlessly back and forth in front of the desk. Wolf recognized the infamous "banker" instantly and instinctively scowled at his nemesis, for all intents and purposes.

"Mr. O'Donnell, I have been assured that you are already aware of how this game show works?" said Howie Mandel, stopping in the center of the room, upon which was a plain glass table, a pedestal for a single case, a simple wireless telephone, and a flat red button protected by a glass box on a hinge.

"I'm familiar enough with it to play." Wolf stared down at the red button, wondering at what point during the day he would be faced with the decision of pressing it.

"Good—that saves us a little time this afternoon, which is something were are sorely lacking at this point. I'll walk you through the basics as we progress." Howie Mandel pointed up at the stairs in front of the platform upon which they stood, all backlit in neon purple lights. "The models will be here—"

Wolf did a double-take. "Hold the phone—models?! As in, supermodels?!"

The game show host dropped his hand, looking mildly put out by this outburst. "I thought you said you were familiar with the show? Each of the twenty-six cases is held, and opened, by one of our models."

"Can't a guy be excited at the thought of gorgeous, scantily-clad women, Howie?"

Their host looked exasperated as Fox, Falco, and Vick all doubled up with laughter, then checked his watch in a rather obsessive-compulsive movement. "Just so you know, the audience will be admitted in about three minutes, and I'd really rather be finished giving you the details before then."

The lupine shrugged noncommittally. "Okay, sure, but if I start panting when you bring in your models don't say I didn't warn you."

"Dually noted. The models will be up there, and you'll the cases of your choosing as the game progresses. Of course you know that your objective is to knock out all of the values on the left side of the board—the low-value amounts—and go home with one of the high dollar amounts on the right side. At the start of the show you will choose one of the twenty-six cases to keep with you here—" Howie rested one hand upon the pedestal upon the glass table beside them, "—for the remainder of the game.

"Now, the banker—" Howie swept an arm out to one side, bringing their attentions to the shadowed man in the room above them, who had yet to stop pacing. "His only job is to get you to sell the case you choose to start the game for as little money as possible. At regular intervals he will be calling me—" Howie indicated the small white telephone, "—to make you an offer. It will then be up to you to either accept or reject the banker's offer."

Howie placed one hand upon the glass box shielding the flat red button and eased it open; Wolf had never known an inanimate object to appear so ominous. "If you wish to accept the offer, you will hit the button. If you wish to reject the offer, you simply close the box." Howie replaced the box over the button, as much to demonstrate as to regain Wolf's focus; the lupine was staring intently at the red button and seemed to be in a kind of trance.

"One last thing," said Howie Mandel, with yet another swift glance at his watch. "In the event that we reach the end of the game, and there are only two cases left in play, you will be given the option to either keep the case you chose at the very start—or switch it with the only other case remaining. Do you have any questions, Mr. O'Donnell?"

"Yeah, actually. So these supermodels… are any of them single?"

Howie heaved a sigh, casting a tragic glance in Falco, Fox, and Vick's direction. "I suppose so, yes."

"And would any of them be interesting in hooking up with a loose cannon like me?"

"Let me rephrase—do you have any questions _about the game show_, Mr. O'Donnell?"

"Oh." Wolf looked mildly put-out but otherwise did a good job of hiding his disappointment. "Definitely not. It sounds pretty easy. Pick some cases, win some money. I got it."

"Excellent." Their host looked relieved. "Now it's almost time for the audience to start taking their seats—let me escort you into the vault, where you will remain until I call for you. The next time you set foot on this stage, you will be a contestant on Deal or No Deal! The three of you—" Howie Mandel cast a glance back over his shoulder at Wolf's guests, the two mercenaries and the female bartender. "—Should wait here. There's a private bench just off to the side of the stage. Make yourselves comfortable."

And, quite before he was ready, Wolf found himself being hurriedly ushered off the stage toward a very formidable-looking bank vault, just as the sound of the stampeding studio audience reached his ears.

* * *

><p>At approximately one in the afternoon the rest of the mansion's residents were just filling their plates with heaps of Kirby's gourmet spaghetti, and just as Blaze passed the telephone at the end of the breakfast bar it pealed its first ring. Politely she set her plate upon the placemat in front of her seat at the table and answered it mid-second ring. "Hello?"<p>

"Hey, er… who is this?"

"This is Blaze speaking," the cat answered at length, her eyes narrowing a fraction in suspicion. Everyone else present in the kitchen—Pit, Kirby, Midna, Link, Lucario, Mewtwo, Meta Knight, and Sonic—was watching her closely now as she spoke. "May I ask who is calling?"

"Oh! Hey Blaze. It's Falco." Blaze visibly relaxed, but the others kept their ears trained in her direction. "Listen, I've got a favor to ask. Can you round everybody up and get them in front of the TV? Oh, and turn on the game show network?"

Blaze gestured to the others as she padded out of the kitchen and into the sitting room, clicking on the power to the television as she passed it and picking up the remote. "Of course… why, exactly?"

"Just trust me—you guys aren't gonna want to miss this." And chuckling uncontrollably, Falco hung up without another word.

"What was all that about?" asked Pit, the first to filter into the sitting room after her, still looking perfectly confused.

"I have no idea," said Blaze honestly. "Falco just told me to escort you all to the television, and to turn on the game show network, but he did not say why."

There was silence for the span of perhaps three heartbeats, during which everyone wandered into the sitting room with their full lunch plates and Blaze dialed through the channels, and when she had located the game show network and the credits for Deal or No Deal were finished zipping by they came to understand what they had been meant to see. Fox, Falco, and Vick were clapping excitedly along with a full studio audience as popular game show host Howie Mandel welcomed all the viewers, and Sonic was the first among them to identify the contestant as he exited the vault.

"Holy shit! Is that Wolf?!"

* * *

><p>"Hello and welcome to Deal or No Deal! I'm your host, Howie Mandel! Today is a very special episode on the show because, well, we're doing something a little different!"<p>

"I'll say," Falco murmured into Vick's ear, and she doubled up with laughter—though of course the sound was lost in the applause from the enthusiastic studio audience.

Howie Mandel trotted around the stage, looking like quite the showman as he addressed the crowd. "Our guest today is not here because he is playing to earn money for a charity group, or buy a house, or support his family—no! Our guest is actually here today on the recommendation of his three wonderful friends—" At this Howie Mandel indicated the bench where Vick, Falco, and Fox sat, and the cheers struck up anew. "—Who have selflessly nominated him in the hopes that his winnings today will break his shoplifting habit!"

"Selflessly?" scoffed Fox, crossing his arms and looking playfully miffed. "If he wins big I'm demanding a ten percent cut of his take."

"So let's give a big welcome to today's contestant—Wolf O'Donnell!"

To another round of tumultuous applause the heavy steel-reinforced door of the vault cranked open and out stepped Wolf O'Donnell, his ears perked up and listening for any sign that he had been tricked, his hands clenched into defensive fists and his arms ramrod straight at his sides. If Howie Mandel was expecting Wolf to look thrilled at his opportunity, he was disappointed—quite the contrary, Wolf looked incredibly uncomfortable.

Reaching the stage Wolf crossed to Howie's side and accepted the man's hand; Howie Mandel tried hard to hide his wince when the mercenary shook his hand with unnecessary force, but astute mercenaries Fox and Falco did not miss the brief grimace that flickered across his face. Like only a game show host could, though, Howie managed to hitch his smile back into place almost instantly. The crowd died down; their host cleared his throat, turning to the neon-lit stairs opposite the audience.

"Ladies—please."

The next thing Wolf knew there were twenty-six positively gorgeous supermodels cresting the stairs and descending toward him in perfect lines, each step perfectly synchronized, every single smile pearly-white and stunning. In one hand each model held a numbered case, and when they had taken their places upon the stairs they swung the case forward in front of them in a very well-rehearsed movement so that each number was displayed. Each model had a flawless face and a body so beautiful Wolf thought he would burst into tears; behind him, Fox, Falco, and Vick all stared in awed silence.

Abruptly, Howie Mandel reached over and snapped Wolf's muzzle closed with an audible _clack_. A few members of the audience snickered derisively.

"Each of our models," began Howie Mandel, "holds a case numbered one through twenty-six. Values range from one penny… to one million dollars!"

The cash board to the right of the stairs lit up and the dollar values became visible:

.01

1,000

1

5,000

5

10,000

10

25,000

25

50,000

50

75,000

75

100,000

100

200,000

200

300,000

300

400,000

400

500,000

500

750,000

750

1,000,000

"All of the values have been placed in each case by a random, anonymous third-party member—no one in this room knows which case holds which dollar value. Only through the process of elimination will we find out which case holds one million dollars!

"Now Wolf." The mercenary commander perked up, instantly interested—the appearance of the supermodels seemed to have piqued his curiosity in the game show. "You must choose one of the cases to keep next to you throughout the game. Should you reach the end of the game, you will have the opportunity to either keep your case or switch it with the other case remaining. Which case would you like to keep?"

Wolf scanned the models facing him—though his one good eye wasn't sweeping over their faces, or the cases in their hands—and seemed to come to a decision with remarkable ease despite the overwhelming pressure. "Yeah, okay—I'll take case number eight."

Theme music played, the audience clapped at Wolf's choice, and the stunning brunette bearing case number eight picked her way down to the stage in her delicate heels and delivered the case to Howie Mandel. She paused in front of Wolf and offered him a wink of one almond-shaped emerald eye, saying in a sultry undertone "I hope you do well."

"Me too." Wolf winked back. "I picked your case because you were the hottest chick up there. It made for a pretty easy choice."

Howie Mandel cleared his throat almost disapprovingly and placed case number eight on the pedestal upon the glass table. The brunette model disappeared off the stage. "Alright, Wolf, this case is yours to keep, to spend, to do with as you please!

"Now it's time for you to start eliminating cases. In the first round, you select six from the remaining twenty-five. Wolf O'Donnell—choose your first case."

The crowd was almost alarmingly silent as Wolf perused the supermodels and the cases they held, struggling to think of the task at hand strategically and not make his decisions based upon the bust sizes of the women facing him. Needless to say his mind was not focused wholly on the case numbers, and he was not considering very carefully the mathematics involved in the inevitable bank offer to come.

He settled on a striking auburn-haired beauty—the first model that truly caught his eye. "Erm… case number eleven?"

The lights went down dramatically on all the other models, and a glaring floodlight illuminated the case, and the model, Wolf had chosen. Howie Mandel's face was frighteningly serious when he eyed the model and ordered somberly, "Open your case."

Her perfectly manicured fingernails clicked open the two latches that held the case closed, and with agonizing slowness she eased the cover down….

…$100.

The crowd burst into applause and the corresponding value on the cash board blacked out. Howie's lips parted in a pleased grin; with a little more confidence, Wolf's eyes flitted across his options. "Seventeen."

"Open your case," said Howie.

$400. Wolf was secretly pleased with his first two choices but becoming increasingly more agitated each time a supermodel vanished off the stairs. "Five."

"Please," murmured Howie, all business. "Open your case."

$500.

"He's got the luck of the devil!" Fox shouted in Falco's ear as the audience screamed in delight.

"Alright Wolf," said their host, pacing back and forth in front of the steely-eyed mercenary and fixing him with a very serious stare. "A good start so far, but you still have three more cases to eliminate before your first bank offer. Choose wisely!"

"So far so good, Howie," barked Wolf, looking smug. "Twenty-two."

The dramatic music drummed in his ears, the supermodel eased the case open… $750.

"Just out of curiosity, Wolf," began Howie Mandel in a would-be casual voice, though his eyes held an unmistakable note of suspicion in their depths now. "That eye patch you're wearing wouldn't happen to have any special abilities, would it? X-ray sensors? Infrared?"

"Unfortunately, no," admitted Wolf truthfully, with a single shrug of his shoulders. "That shit costs a fortune that I don't have, and stealing eye-enhancement equipment is a hell of a lot harder than stealing an Xbox360 from Wal-Mart. Though in Wal-Mart's defense, they have really lax security there."

Howie looked stern. "Please watch your language, Wolf; this is a family show. There are children in our audience."

"Yeah? Fuck 'em. And you can suck on my nuts. Case number eighteen."

Shaking his head and looking almost embarrassed, Howie pointed wordlessly at the bleach blonde bearing case eighteen. She eased the case open—and $300,000 disappeared off the cash board. The audience moaned at Wolf's misfortune.

"Karma's a bitch," muttered Howie in Wolf's ear, in a voice so low that only the lupine could hear.

"So is the business end of a plasma rifle shoved up your ass," warned Wolf, in a tone just as low but decidedly more dangerous. Howie wisely fell silent. "Case number two."

This proved to be Wolf's best choice of the first round, and made him feel a little better about eliminating a case with six figures in it—case two held only $75. It was with a backing of ecstatic applause that Howie introduced Wolf to the next stage of the game.

"Alright, Wolf! Six cases down and most of your choices were very good ones. This is where the game gets interesting. You see, in that room up there is the banker." Howie Mandel pointed to the shadowy room set into the wall to the left of the stage, where the paunchy man was hunched over his desk with a pencil in one hand and a small square object in the other—a calculator, Wolf assumed. "It's his job to make you an offer based on the values remaining on the board. He wants to get you out of here for as little money as possible."

"In essence, he's trying to screw you over!" shouted Vick from the bench.

"Bastard," growled Wolf, and Howie slapped himself in the face. The crowd tittered its disapproval.

"Any second now, the banker will call—" Howie cut himself off as the small white mobile phone set into the glass table began to ring, "—and you'll have your first offer." Without another word Howie reached out and took the phone, raising it to his ear. He didn't address the banker at all in the five seconds that elapsed, and try as he might Wolf couldn't pick up a single word of the one-sided conversation that took place. Howie replaced the phone.

"He said he thinks you're all bark, and no bite," the host informed him.

The audience groaned aloud, but not loud enough to drown out Wolf's retaliatory comment. The lupine crossed his burly arms over his barrel chest and narrowed his eyes, saying, "What a misinformed dooshbag. I'm a wolf, not a dog. We don't bark. We go straight for ripping out jugulars. And whatever his offer is, I'm not interested."

Howie Mandel blinked confusedly. "I haven't even told you the offer yet."

"And I haven't told you how much cash I pull down in a month in Andross's employ," Wolf fired back. "Believe me, it's more than your measly million up there."

"The war is currently on hold," sneered Howie craftily, "so, technically, aren't you currently unemployed?"

"Oh for the love of Christ, just tell me the damn offer."

"Thank you. The offer is $37,000."

"Chump change. No deal."

And the show flashed to a commercial break with a baffled round of applause from the audience.

* * *

><p>"I don't know about you guys," breathed Midna from her seat at the end of the couch, "but I'm not sure I would have turned down $37,000 so quickly."<p>

"It is a lot of money…" agreed Link apprehensively.

_He isn't exaggerating, though,_ Lucario pointed out, hovering beneath the awning leading from the sitting room into the kitchen, several empty lunch plates in his arms. _The Star Fox and Star Wolf mercenaries don't operate for less than a certain fee. In terms of paid killers, it is widespread knowledge that they are the best in the business. I wouldn't be surprised at all to learn that Wolf's monthly paycheck is well over one million dollars._

"So do you really think he could win the million?" asked Pit excitedly. "I mean, that was a really good first round, and he only knocked out one of the huge amounts…."

"Not a chance," grumbled Meta Knight. "When is life ever that easy for any of us?"

* * *

><p>At a cue from their host the studio audience burst into excited applause, bringing the game show back from its first scheduled commercial break. Howie Mandel faced the nearest camera with a dazzling smile. "Welcome back to Deal or No Deal! If you're just joining us, today we're endeavoring to help Wolf O'Donnell here win some cash in order to cure a troublesome shoplifting habit he's developed since the end of the Lylat Wars. Now before we get going with round two, Wolf, why don't you introduce your panel of supporters you've brought along with you today?"<p>

"Oh." Wolf blinked once, moderately taken aback; he had already decided which case to pick next and was thrown off by Howie's request. He turned to the bench to find that his two rival mercenaries and the bartender from The Shadow were no longer sitting; Fox, always made jittery at the prospect of a large sum of money, was pacing their length of the stage with his brow furrowed and his hands clasped behind his back. Falco was more at ease, hands in his pockets, winking surreptitiously at the supermodel holding case number 6; only Vick Ralis had her attention on him, and he actually cracked a little smirk when she waved enthusiastically at him.

"Sure. Er…. Well, the guy who can't quit pacing is Fox McCloud, my long-time sworn nemesis. He heads the Star Fox mercenaries. Huge pussy. But not bad in bed."

Howie Mandel looked like he wanted to hang himself from the rafters.

"The guy trying to score some ass with your supermodels and failing miserably is Fox's copilot Falco Lombardi, Star Fox's ace pilot. Skinny wannabe badass, if you ask me. Used to belong to a street gang when he was a preteen. But everybody in our line of work did that, so it's not all that impressive, really."

"Blow me," offered Falco idly, without turning his attention from the dark-haired beauty on the end of the first row of models.

"And the chick is Vick Ralis, head bartender and heavy metal cover artist at The Shadow, most popular techno club I've ever been to. She makes a mean Jack and Coke—seriously, it'll knock you on your ass."

"Come see us!" Vick called to the audience in her best entrepreneur voice. "We're located in Mushroom Kingdom's Bullet End! Ladies night every Wednesday! Fifty-cent shots if you flash your ID at the door!"

"OKAY!" shouted Howie, loud enough over the combination of hysterical laughter and angry jeers from the studio audience to draw everyone's attention back to him. "Wolf, you just turned down the bank offer of $37,000—one of the largest first-round offers our resident banker has ever negotiated. Are you ready for the second round?"

"Bring it, Howie."

"Alright—choose your next five cases."

Wolf perused the remaining nineteen models, eyes flashing over various body parts as he studied the cases they held with little interest, before nodding toward a dirty-blonde in the back. "You—number twenty-three. Show me love."

She giggled and winked, unfazed when Howie said "open you case" in a rather harassed tone of voice, and unclasped the steel latches to reveal the value $25,000.

"I guess I can afford to let that one get away," said Wolf with a shrug, glaring through his good eye at the banker, who despite being enshrouded by shadow seemed to be chuckling at the lupine's poor choice. "Let's go with… oh hell… fourteen?"

It was only the $5,000 amount, but Wolf still glared at the supermodel holding the newly-opened case as though she had committed a capital offense against him; she scurried off the stage as quickly as her spindly heels could carry her, and then the mercenary commander took a page out of Fox's book and started pacing the center stage to and fro. Howie was talking about Wolf's most recent choice and the odds he would be facing now, but the lupine wasn't listening. Mid-pace he glanced back at his panel to find Vick still watching him intently with her storm-gray eyes.

"What do you say, Ralis? You got a number in mind? I'm a little stuck here."

"You worry too much," she encouraged him, nodding in his direction once—somehow it calmed Wolf a little to know he had her support. He supposed she just had that effect on people. "You're still in great shape. You've only knocked out one case in the six figures, for Christ's sake. They're just trying to rattle you. Keep it together. I'm going with lucky number seven."

Wolf turned back to regard Howie—his pacing had momentarily stopped. "You heard the lady, Howie—it's number seven." Then, to the model with the short, mousy-brown hair who happened to be clutching case seven, "It had better be a good one, darling, or I'm gonna have to start tearing off people's fingernails."

Howie Mandel did his very best to make Wolf apprehensive by talking in a somber undertone about his odds, but again, Wolf wasn't listening—Vick's logic was perfectly sound. His odds were still in good shape. The top half of the case eased down to reveal $1.

"You," Wolf growled appreciatively at Vick, who was clapping along with the audience and wearing a dazzling grin, "are a peach. Hell, if you're gonna win me the big bucks, pick another one!"

"Case number one!" she cheered, catching Fox by the shoulder as she did so and stopping his nervous pacing. Even Falco was paying attention now.

His faith in Vick paid off again—case number one had only $300 in it. Falco and Vick danced around with their hands clasped tightly together, pointing up at the banker and screaming obscenities and inappropriate jests at the top of their lungs, but with only one case left to pick in the second round before the banker called with his next offer Wolf had identified the potential pitfall in the situation. With so many small dollar amounts already eliminated from the cash board, and fifteen unopened cases still looming ominously in front of him, it didn't take a genius to realize that, inevitably, he would knock out another large number. He decided to take matters into his own hands; with his friends still deep in their celebratory acts he said to Howie, "Okay, last one… number twenty."

"Are you sure?" asked Howie mockingly, enjoying the obvious tension emanating from the mercenary.

"Yeah. I gave you the damn number, didn't I?"

"Are you absolutely sure?"

Wolf was beside himself—it was probably good that he wasn't armed, or Howie's life may have been forfeit. "What is this, Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? Do I have to say 'yes, goddammit, that's my final answer' before you listen to me? I said TWENTY, Howie. TWO-ZERO. Open the fucking case!"

Howie opened his mouth to protest, looking vehement, but the supermodel holding case number twenty probably saved his life by opening the case without waiting for the host's approval. To make matters worse, the case Wolf had chosen contained $200,000—thankfully the crowd's collective groan was loud enough to cover up the string of explicit curses that erupted from Wolf's mouth.

The lights dialed down—the audience predictably grew silent—and, as if on cue, the telephone near Howie's hand began to ring. The crafty game show host glared at Wolf silently for several seconds, letting the ringing reverberate in the lupine's sensitive ears, before ever-so-slowly easing the phone off the receiver and lifting it to his ear. "Hello. Alright. I understand."

He hung up, circling Wolf and the glass table with measured steps, opening the glass case covering the flat red button as he passed, looking for all the world like a rabid car salesman. "With the exception of that last case you chose, Wolf, that was another good round of picks for you."

"Yeah, I know—believe it or not, I saw the whole thing." Wolf rolled his eyes. "Cut to the chase, Howie."

"Any idea what the offer is going to be? I know, money, but—" Howie flashed a shark-like grin. "—How much?"

Wolf's single electric-blue eye narrowed forbiddingly. "I'm not a psychic, Howie, so I have no clue what the bank offer is. But I do know that if you don't tell me within the next five seconds I'm going to tear your small intestine out through your nose and strangle you to death with it. And if you're thinking 'surely I'll be dead by the time he gets my small intestine out through my nose', think again."

Howie rolled his eyes to the ceiling, though a light sheen of sweat had beaded upon his forehead by the time Wolf had finished voicing his threat. "Alright—the offer went up. The new offer is $69,000. Wolf O'Donnell—deal, or no deal?"

* * *

><p>"Take the damn deal!" Midna shrieked at the television. "Do you have any idea how much beer $69,000 would buy us?!"<p>

"No deal!" Sonic shouted louder. "He'd be nuts to get out now, look at how many huge amounts are left on the board! He could get more money, easy!"

"Would Howie really survive if Wolf tore his small intestine out through his nose?" worried Pit aloud.

Mewtwo shrugged and answered vaguely, _Wolf is a very powerful man._

* * *

><p>Wolf cocked his head to the side to regard his three companions, who were all staring back at him looking unmistakably on edge. "Are we all in agreement that this deal, while obviously better than the last one, still blows?"<p>

Fox looked skeptical—few things in the entire world made him more nervous than large sums of money—but Falco nodded his agreement almost instantly and Vick put in, "The odds are still in your favor. Look at the board. Take a chance! No deal."

"Just what I wanted to hear," chuckled Wolf, and he slapped the glass case down over the red button before Howie could murmur any more confusing money propositions in his ear. The crowd cheered.

"Alright, Wolf—two rounds behind you, and you've just turned down the second bank offer of $69,000. You have to choose four more cases before the banker will call again." Howie gestured to the fourteen models, and the fourteen cases, that remained. "Pick a case."

The lupine glanced knowingly at Fox, who visibly trembled under the weight of the intense gaze. "Focus, Foxie, and pick a case for me, will you?"

"Why do I have to pick?!" shrieked Fox hysterically. "Can't you make Vick do it?! She picked twice earlier and did great!"

"Get a handle on yourself, you pathetic little girl, or I'm cuffing you to the bedpost tonight."

Howie Mandel thudded his head down helplessly upon the glass table, nearly rattling case number eight from its pedestal. Fox's frantic eyes flashed over his options before he squeaked out, "Erm… six?"

The vulpine knew without asking that he would be punished later when $400,000—the largest dollar amount yet to be knocked off the cash board—became visible when case number six drifted open. The model holding the case visibly winced.

"It's okay, Wolf!" called Falco, pacing a step or two closer to the center stage. "Don't worry about it! Four huge amounts left, including the million! Take it from me and go with number twenty-five, buddy, you know I wouldn't steer you wrong."

Wolf heaved a sigh and pointed at the model who was clutching case twenty-five and trembling from head to toe. "Open it, honey—I'll let you keep your intestines if it's a low value."

The model almost cried when her case was revealed to be holding $750,000.

"Don't walk alone through the parking lot tonight," Wolf threatened, and the model burst into tears veritably sprinted off the stage. "And thanks for that, Falco, turns out you WOULD steer me wrong because we operate for rival political figures. That's the last time you get to pick a case." Wolf locked eyes with Vick again, who was still looking unerringly resolute. "I need you to get me out of this rut, Ralis, since it looks like I can't trust either of my nemeses to make a sound decision."

"I've got your back," Vick promised soberly, and abandoning the bench she crossed the stage to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the volatile mercenary leader. Her eyes worked slowly over the numbers that remained, and Wolf found himself impressed by the wisdom he found there. "Okay… nineteen."

Wolf found that he trusted her, and was not disappointed in the slightest when opening case nineteen eliminated $25; he even breathed a sigh of genuine relief. "And now?"

"You trust me enough to let me pick again?" Vick didn't sound surprised, or hurt—just unsure.

"Yeah, you seem to know something I don't and Fox and Falco's picks almost killed me. Just don't knock out the million. Ike might not have killed you at breakfast, but if you cost me seven figures I will do a much more thorough job."

"Is threatening people a favorite pastime of yours?" chuckled Vick beneath her breath.

"It comes with the job atmosphere. Are you gonna pick a case? I'm getting an ulcer here."

"Sorry. Does ten work for you?"

Wolf didn't consider carefully the number she gave him, or pause to evaluate the repercussions should her choice prove to be a bad one—he just nodded at Howie, and pointed at the corresponding supermodel. Thankfully, the last case of the third round only contained $10,000—an amount Wolf could easily make his peace with losing. Howie was talking in his eerie car-salesman voice to the attentive audience, but Wolf's ear was trained on Vick, who had begun whispering softly in his ear.

"It's hard to say what's going to happen now—you knocked out two more huge amounts, but the highest and lowest extremes are still in play. If my calculations match the banker's, I'd say your next offer will be about the same as your last." When Wolf stared at her incredulously she tossed her silvery-blonde hair over her shoulder and laughed, finishing, "I've got a head for numbers."

Howie was listening to the banker's voice at this point, so they wisely stopped talking and waited for the verdict. Their host replaced the phone upon its cradle and flipped the small glass case up—the red button gleamed almost seductively under the bright studio lights. "Alright, Wolf—the banker feels that your luck is about to run out. Nevertheless, he says that he likes your attitude and has given you a generous third offer-$72,000. So think carefully before you answer this question, Wolf O'Donnel—deal, or no deal?"

"You were bang on," Wolf congratulated Vick in a tone that was half-impressed and half-exasperated. "But now what do we do?"

Howie Mandel wisely read the strained expression on the lupine's face, and signaled for another commercial break.

* * *

><p>"If he keeps pressing his luck like this," moaned Sonic, "he's going to lose."<p>

_Have a little faith,_ scolded Lucario. _This is far from over. The whole point is for Wolf to win one million dollars, and he hasn't eliminated that value yet. Anything could happen._

Sonic rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Your never-ending optimism gets really tiring after awhile, you know."

Lucario's eyes darkened to their startling crimson-black, a sure sign that he was displeased. _I don't need to use my hands to tear out anyone's intestines like Wolf does, you know._

Sonic shuddered and scooted as far away from Lucario as he could get.

* * *

><p>"Let's chase that million," Wolf muttered recklessly to Vick. "No deal, Howie."<p>

Howie Mandel closed the glass cover himself to a tumultuous round of applause and said to Wolf, "Alright—choose your next three cases."

"Ralis?"

"Four, thirteen, and twenty-one, in that order."

Wolf shook his head, trying not to appear too shocked by the bartender's remarkable focus, and winked at Howie. "You heard the lady! Four, thirteen, twenty-one. Final answer."

"We have already established that this is NOT Who Wants to Be a Millionaire," Howie reminded sarcastically.

"Have we? Sorry, I got confused earlier when you tried to play twenty questions with me. Will you just open the damn cases so I can signal my sniper to stand down?"

Howie Mandel threw his arms up over his head protectively, scouring the rafters overhead for his assailant, and felt very foolish indeed when the crowd roared with laughter in response.

"Gotcha," sneered Wolf, and Vick doubled up with laughter.

The three models highlighted under fluorescent spotlights all opened their cases at once, and Wolf couldn't believe his eyes—the dollar values $5, $10, and $200 all disappeared off the cash board simultaneously, greatly improving Wolf's chances of winning big. Vick looked deservedly smug. The phone rang; Howie answered it right away this time, keen on getting his rude guests out of the studio as quickly as good manners would allow.

"It's going up, Wolf," murmured Vick in confidence. "It's going up big time."

Their suspicions were confirmed when Howie hung up and announced, "You've rattled the banker, Wolf—it's $227,000. Deal or no deal?"

* * *

><p>By now Blaze, Pit, Kirby, Midna, Link, Lucario, Mewtwo, Meta Knight, and Sonic had all relocated to the carpet directly in front of the TV, hands clasped together in front of their faces, all looking stressed and anxious at this most unexpected development.<p>

"Now what?" asked Pit in a subdued voice, but no one knew quite how to answer him.

* * *

><p>"Alright!" bellowed Wolf, flinging an arm around Vick's shoulders and steering her off the center stage toward the bench where Falco and Fox had collapsed under the strain. "Get up, you pansies, it's time for a team huddle. Let's chat this one out."<p>

"Are you insane?!" howled Fox, eyes wild. "How can you even be considering going on?! When was the last time someone handed you $227,000?!"

"Right around the time I helped axe your dear old dad," snickered Wolf.

Fox kicked the lupine in the shin. "Take the deal, you cocky son of a bitch."

"Strap on a pair," scoffed Vick, shaking her head disgustedly. "Half a million and a million are still on the board—don't quit now, Wolf. Play it out some more."

"You've got a safety net," Falco agreed reluctantly. "I'm with Vick. Go for it."

Wolf looked up. "General consensus says no deal, Howie."

Their host nodded once solemnly and closed the glass case again, looking less than thrilled at the prospect of continuing on with the most unorthodox contestant his game show had seen since its initial air date. "Alright—two more cases until the next offer. Go ahead and choose."

The four of them drifted toward center stage, Vick tugging an unwilling Fox in her wake; Wolf sized up his two rival mercenaries quite seriously before saying, "Okay—things are going pretty well, and I'm feeling mildly generous, so I'm gonna let you two each pick again. Don't fuck it up."

Falco chose at once. "Nine."

Fox was decidedly more hesitant, and only chose when Vick elbowed him none-too-gently in the ribs. "Ouch! Fine! Fifteen!"

Wolf almost went on a killing spree when the amounts $75,000 and $100,000 were wiped off the dwindling cash board at almost the exact same time. "That's it. It's official. You two are fucking useless."

This time when the phone rang, Vick swiped it out of Howie's hand so quickly that even nimble-fingered Falco couldn't help but stare in awe. The bartender danced to the other side of the table, just out of reach of their enraged host, shouting into the receiver, "Quit fucking him, Banker! I know that that round sucked, but give him the offer he deserves!"

By the time Howie Mandel managed to pry the telephone out of Vick's fingers, the line had already disconnected. Looking almost murderous he snarled, "Did the banker happen to tell you his newest offer?"

Vick was looking pleased with herself. "He sure did, Howie—$352,000! What do you think, Wolf? Deal or no deal?"

* * *

><p><em>Oh my goodness,<em> breathed Lucario, his telepathic voice weak with nerves.

"Oh Christ," echoed Link.

"Oh shit," blurted Midna.

* * *

><p>Instead of perusing the cash board—as most contestants that had been in his situation before probably had—Wolf cocked his head to the side and glanced up at the banker. His "enemy", for all intents and purposes, had abandoned his high-back office chair and was now pacing the length of the darkened office, head bowed, back bent from the strain. The sight brought a smirk of pleasure to the lupine's face. "How about it, you three? Thoughts?"<p>

"Fuck it," Falco laughed at once. "The million, Wolf…."

"Yeah, I know, I'm with you. No deal, Howie."

Their host was aghast. "Aren't you going to consider this a little more carefully? You're down to choosing a single case at a time; now, after each case you eliminate, the banker will call with an offer. You're in a pretty precarious position, Mr. O'Donnell."

"I'd be in a precarious position if I was the banker," Wolf corrected smugly. "After all, the case with the million is still out there, and I'm starting to think more and more that I picked it at the start of the game. Plow on, I say. No deal. Seriously. Don't ask me again."

Howie Mandel shrugged his shoulders, resigned, and slid the glass box down over the flat red button that would have awarded Wolf the staggering sum of $352,000. The crowd responded with spellbound whispers of awe and trepidation. "In that case, Mr. O'Donnell, pick your next case."

"Sixteen!" bellowed Fox, so loudly that Falco jumped nearly a foot in the air and Vick clapped her hands over her ears. "Trust me, Wolf, I got this, I'm cool!"

The larger, more muscular of the two mercenary commanders shifted his gaze to the vulpine, waving his tail back and forth in lazy agitation. "You sure about that, Foxie? You know there are only five cases left to pick from."

"I know!" screamed Fox, crazed. "I want to make up for knocking out $100,000…."

"Words cannot express just how much trouble you will be in if you just eliminated the million," Wolf warned, flexing the fingers of his right hand menacingly, the studio lights glinting off his wicked claws. "Well, Howie, you can't say I'm a heartless bastard who doesn't rely on the suggestions of others… case sixteen it is."

Howie was quick on the uptake—sending the game show to a hasty commercial break the moment the case was opened and Wolf started shouting expletives when the $500,000 amount was lost.

* * *

><p>"One has to wonder if Wolf will allow Fox to come home at all… or murder him on the set," Meta Knight brooded.<p>

"He'll have to let Fox come home before he kills him," Link insisted. "National television—too many witnesses."

* * *

><p>Wolf's mood hadn't improved even an infinitesimal amount when Deal or No Deal came back from commercial break, but eight commercials had scrolled by and poor Howie Mandel simply couldn't risk a more extended hiatus. He did manage to stumble through a welcome back speech somewhat gracefully, though, with Wolf howling curses behind him.<p>

"Welcome back to Deal or No Deal—"

"Blow it out your ass, Howie!"

"—where our guest for today, renown mercenary captain Wolf O'Donnell, has just eliminated $500,000—"

"Motherfucking SONS OF BITCHES!"

"—and is now waiting for a call from our resident banker."

"Your resident banker had better hope that glass is bulletproof!" shrieked Wolf, rounding swiftly and hunching into a predator's crouch as he eyed the shadowy room set into the wall. The banker disappeared from view as he dove beneath his desk.

"What a moron," scoffed Falco, folding his arms across his narrow chest. "Wolf doesn't even have a gun."

The phone rang; Howie chose not to protest this time when Vick answered it.

"Okay, I know, it looks bad, but can we make some sort of deal? No? Well, if that's all you've got to offer, I'd stay under that desk if I were you. And invest in some high caliber security. Just a suggestion." Vick hung up and moved to stand beside a seething Wolf, her face apologetic. "It went down-$179,000."

"That's a huge dip, but it doesn't matter," Wolf growled. "The million's in my case." He cast a meaningful, almost pleading glance at case number 8, still waiting, undisturbed, upon the pedestal set into the glass table.

"You think so?" marveled Vick.

Wolf was immediately on the defensive. "You gonna tell me how improbable that is?"

"No—actually, I was going to agree with you."

"You were?"

"Yeah—blind faith is funny that way, isn't it?"

They shared a silent look, mercenary and bartender, the kind of look Vick and Lucario shared when they were engaged in totally wordless conversation. Howie glanced back and forth between them, utterly perplexed.

Wolf nodded once and slapped the glass case closed, to a collective shocked gasp from the crowd. "So what's next? Can you get me out of this one?"

"One case at a time—starting with twelve."

It was not as bad as it could have been, but the outcome was still not desirable; the $50,000 value vanished from the now almost-empty cash board, leaving them with three small amounts-$.01, $50, and $1,000—and the value they were all interested in-$1,000,000. The next offer was much the same as the last-$178,000—but Wolf turned it down just the same. The audience had descended into a tense hush now, as it was clear that the current contestant was prepared to play the game all the way to its stunning conclusion—something that rarely happened on Deal or No Deal.

Vick chose case twenty-six next, thus eliminating the $50 amount, and then case three, which took out $1,000. It was pandemonium in the studio when the banker called and Howie gave Wolf what would be his final bank offer of the game—the largest value Wolf had yet seen during the game show-$500,000.

Wolf wasn't about to hesitate now; after all, he had believed from the start (somehow) that the case he had chosen was holding the million dollar amount anyway. Falco was screeching for him to go for it and Vick was adamant by his side—it was the man he didn't know who stood up in the middle of the studio audience, calling Vick's name as he descended the staircase, that gave the mercenary pause. He wasn't anyone that Wolf recognized officially, but perhaps had seen in passing on TV, or maybe a news clipping—slim and medium height, wearing form-fitting black leather cargos and a matching sleeveless shirt with large silver buckles. His hair was a deep crimson-black with streaks of rich gold, his eyes a piercing shade of violet, but his most noticeable feature was the golden pyramid puzzle nestled against his sternum, suspended by a thick steel chain.

**NEWCOMER: YAMI YUGI** (_Yu-Gi-Oh!_)

"Well I'll be damned!" whistled Vick, moving to embrace the man as he made his way toward them. "Do wonders never cease around here?" She headed back toward the center stage where Wolf waited somewhat irritably, her arm flung around the slim man's waist, and there were shocked gasps and wild cheers coming from the crowd now. Wolf felt stupid—surely he knew this man from somewhere?

"Wolf!" cried Vick, looking very pleased. "You're in luck! This is Yami Yugi, an old friend of mine! We went to high school together. He's, well—"

"The King of Games!" Howie Mandel was shouting at the top of his lungs, further exciting the crowd with his own showmanship. "The legendary King of Games is here in our studio! Ladies and gentlemen, occasions don't get more momentous than this!"

"Oh, right. I DO know you." Wolf was sizing Yami up by his size, something he would freely admit he was often guilty of; he didn't see any potential threat there on the surface. "You're the Duel Monsters champ. Think I saw you on a newscast once. So that's you, right? The King of Games?"

Yami smirked, looking very smug. His violet eyes gleamed. "Indisputably."

"And there isn't a single game you can't master?"

"That's right, Wolf." The mercenary had never met anyone who radiated confidence so completely. It was oddly unsettling.

"Alright then, if Vick vouches for you, and it looks like she does, I guess you're alright by me. You think you can win me a million dollars? That's kind of the reason I'm here."

Yami looked past Howie Mandel to the single model that remained upon the neon-lit staircase, clutching case number twenty-four rather nervously with both hands. "Absolutely. When you were down to three choices—eight, twenty-four, and three—you had a thirty-three percent chance that your original choice was still the correct one. But by rightly eliminating another of the cases—three—and putting the chances back to fifty-fifty, what you really did was increase your own chances of being incorrect in your initial choice by another thirty-three percent. It is now sixty-six-point-six percent against you that the case you are holding contains only the penny."

Wolf blinked confusedly and fixed Yami with quite an angry glare when he asked, "What the fuck did you just say? Can I get the English translation of that?"

"It is now in your best interest to switch cases."

"WHAT?! Are you out of your mind?!"

Yami shrugged his delicate-looking shoulders as though he didn't much care. "It's all a matter of weighing the probability and odds. From a neutral perspective it is clear which choice you should make. The final decision is yours."

Wolf turned back to Vick, looking skeptical. "Is this guy legit?"

Vick bobbed her head agreeably. "Oh yes. Trust me, he's a genius. That's how he wins at Duel Monsters—by removing himself emotionally from the situation and looking at it logically. It's a foolproof strategy. If he thinks you should switch…."

"Fuck it," sighed Wolf, throwing up his hands. "Let's do it. I'm switching cases, Howie. Give me good old number twenty-four."

It was completely silent in the studio as Howie motioned for the last supermodel to come down the stairs; somberly the game show host traded cases with the beautiful woman and placed case twenty-four upon the pedestal. Some of the audience was standing up out of their chairs by now in an attempt to get a closer look. The tension pressed in like a tangible weight all around. Howie opened the case.

One penny.

Yami didn't even meet Wolf's eyes—the second the case had opened and revealed its contents he bolted into the audience with the murderous mercenary hot on his heels.

* * *

><p>Midna turned off the television, looking disgusted. "Well, I guess we'd better hurry to the liquor store."<p>

Pit blinked confusedly. "What for? The fridge is stocked."

"I know—but the second Wolf walks in here he's going to want to drink himself into a coma. We might as well help the poor bastard."

* * *

><p>Midna turned out to be correct; the moment Wolf walked in the door he gratefully accepted the long-necked bottle the Twilight Princess offered him and downed it in barely seconds; luckily, Link had another on hand. The mercenary might have been incredibly depressed by his misfortune were it not for the others; Ike, also in a remarkably foul mood, was more than willing to drink himself into a stupor with the livid mercenary, and Falco, Fox, Marth, Vick, and Midna all seldom turned down an opportunity to consume an alcoholic beverage of any kind. Even Lucario joined in, a very rare occurrence, and Yami followed, already quite taken with everyone (except Wolf, of course).<p>

Later that night, when the majority of the group had re-convened at The Shadow, Vick made good on her promise to Marth.

She began her heavy metal cover hour with her usual lineup—an Avenged Sevenfold tune, a song by Bullet For My Valentine, and a third chart by Disturbed—before nodding once in Lucario's direction; the aura guardian was hovering quietly by a corner of the stage, looking magnificent in silver glittery body paint, with a barstool for the head bartender. She accepted it without explanation and placed it pointedly just beside her microphone stand, and then cleared her throat.

"Can I please get Marth up here? Pronto?"

At the bar, Wolf, Midna, Fox, Falco, Link, Yami, and Pit all whistled and cheered raucously; Marth blushed as he picked his way through the tightly-packed crowd but held his head high all the same. Seated at the extreme end of the bar beside Wolf, still looking just as morose as he had that morning, Ike dared to glance toward the stage. Vick took Marth's hand and led him across the stage—several drunken patrons jeered and cat-called at Marth's heels, stirring the ex-prince into laughter—before plunking him theatrically down upon the stool.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is Marth, a very good friend of mine!" She broke off to wink at Marth, who smiled appreciatively back at her. "I'm going to sing a very special song for him this evening, and he's going to oblige all of you by doing a little striptease. Keep in mind, he's only doing it for money!"

Marth, already partially intoxicated, was already winking at several likely faces in the crowd. Ike ducked his head as the others laughed, and Vick's guitar player ripped through the opening riffs of a song:

"_I always thought I could trust you_

_But I guess that's not the case_

_All the years that I loved you_

_You were out there, playing the games_

_You didn't think that I would find out_

_But it was written all over the place_

_Is it what you really want now?_

_Then get the fuck out of my face_

_How could you deceive me?_

_I'm begging you to leave me…"_

By this point Marth had dropped his sword belt to the floor by his barstool and unlaced his cape; three scantily-clad women in the audience were now fighting over it quite viciously. Vick pointed toward the bar, right at Ike, and made sure he got the point when she sang the chorus:

"So _GO TO HELL_

_I'm better off without you_

_All is well _

_I'd rather be alone_

_To have you, to hold you_

_And never know you, 'cause you sold me out_

_You're never gonna live this down…"_

Falco slapped Ike on the back with a hearty guffaw and shouted something unintelligible in his ear that Ike was certain was an insult of some kind; in response, the former mercenary slammed a shot of some unknown liquid. Marth removed his gauntlets and his tunic as no less than fifteen people threw various dollar bills upon the stage at his feet.

"_How do you look in the mirror?_

_How do you stand the sight of your face?_

_If you'd made it any clearer_

_I could've seen right through the haze_

_And I'll never think about you_

_When I'm sleeping with all of your friends_

_And I'm hoping that you find out_

'_Cause nothing's as sweet as revenge_

_How could you deceive me?  
>I'm begging you to leave me…"<em>

Vick made a point of unclasping Marth's belt herself, to numerous screams of women from the crowd. Midna appeared at the foot of the stage to slide a twenty dollar bill into the waistband of Marth's now-unzipped slacks.

"_GO TO HELL_

_I'm better off without you_

_All is well _

_I'd rather be alone_

_To have you, to hold you_

_And never know you, 'cause you sold me out_

_You're never gonna live this down!"_

Ike lifted his glass in a begrudging sort of toast as the song ended. As much as the words and the sight of his now-ex-lover half naked pained him, he couldn't complain—he knew that, despite the merrymaking, Marth was in far worse shape than he was.

* * *

><p>Taxis brought everyone back to Brawlers Mansion around three in the morning. Marth had continued to drink rather comfortably for the rest of the night, aided completely by the four hundred dollars he had made during Vick's spectacular rendition of Papa Roach's "Live This Down". Ike had vanished around twelve thirty and hadn't been seen since; he had not returned with them.<p>

Marth crested the stairs to the topmost floor of the mansion, a towel flung over his bare shoulders, his eyes in their quiet sadness fixed upon the floor. He was just turning into the community showers when he ran headlong into Pit.

"Pit! Sorry! I didn't mean to run you over—what the hell are you doing, just standing around here? Are you hammered?" Marth's voice had gone from apologetic to wondering, for Pit seemed to be fighting back a smile.

The angel flexed his wings once and held out his hand, palm up—in it was a plain white bar of soap. Marth peered down at it, perplexed, before throwing back his head to laugh. "Don't you think you could have just left that in the showers for me to use? I'm sure I could have found it on my own…."

"I wanted to give this to you, direct from me to you. Hey, hold on!" Pit's voice shot up in a frenzy, for Marth was trying to skirt around him now, still chortling. "Look, I know this looks stupid, but let me tell you a story. On one of my first nights here I was going through a really tough time—I realized I'd lost my fighting edge, and was having a hard time facing it—and Link told me what a bar of soap is really for. And I thought it was totally idiotic at the time, but the very next day I decided I wanted to race in the MKGP and it's been going pretty well since then."

Marth couldn't help feeling mildly intrigued. "Okay… what did Link tell you about soap?"

"He said that the real point to a bar of soap is that it washes away your day. And, well, I've been kind of waiting for someone to pass that on to ever since. So…." Pit slapped the bar of soap into Marth's bewildered hand. "You're going to take a shower anyway, right? So just think about what I said, and… well… I hope you feel better."

Pit turned and headed down the hall to his glass-on-all-sides greenhouse bedroom and slipped inside. Marth stared after him, unmoving, before glancing down at the mundane-looking bar of soap in his hand, already feeling miserable over Ike again and dreading sleeping alone.

So he took Pit's advice, and stepping into the shower he washed away his heartache.


	12. The One With the Nerf Gun Wars

Vick and Lucario traipsed into Brawlers Mansion at about 8 a.m., looking pleasantly exhausted and positively famished. The two of them were veritably surrounded by chocolate chip pancakes when Mewtwo wandered in, followed by a yawning Link, an expressionless Blaze, and an adamant Meta Knight. Kirby chattered at all of them happily and gestured excitedly at the stacks of pancakes, which they all descended upon ravenously.

Vick finished off her third mug of coffee and combed her fingers through her unkempt hair. "Hey, do any of you know if Ike ever made it back here alright?"

_I heard him come in,_ Mewtwo answered without turning away from the window—the sky was dark with storm clouds again. _It was about five in the morning._

"What are the odds that he hooked up with someone?" asked Link through gritted teeth.

"Given what I have deduced from his character," interjected Blaze, "I would say that is very likely."

A few seconds of silence passed as they all chewed their breakfasts, thinking darkly of Ike and protectively of Marth. Meta Knight cocked his head in Vick's direction. "Is it true that your friend Yami made the decision that only gained Wolf a penny on that game show yesterday?"

Vick chuckled and tugged a very fine chain out from beneath her shirt; dangling at the end of the golden chain was a very shiny penny. Everyone seated at the table howled with laughter. "It's true—though in Yami's defense, he was only playing with the odds. The odds just happened to be wrong this time… I'm giving him this when he wakes up—I put it on the chain myself."

"I'd like to say something like 'I'm sure he'll appreciate the gesture', but somehow I don't think he will," laughed Link. "And I'd hate to delude you into thinking that Wolf's a halfway decent guy."

Lucario dropped his fork onto his syrup-smeared plate and sighed contentedly. _Wonderful as always, Kirby; if you'll all excuse me, I'm going to sleep for a few hours. Victoria?_

Vick shoveled the last of her fourth pancake into her mouth and handed Lucario her plate and utensils, which he returned to the dishwasher not far from where Kirby was still cooking. "Quit calling me that, and yeah, I'm gonna crash. Where should I…?"

"Take mine," offered Blaze with a rare smile. "Third floor, all the way at the end."

Lucario and Vick embraced briefly in the sitting room before going their separate ways, both yawning heavily and dragging their feet. No one doubted they would be unconscious the moment their heads hit their respective pillows. Midna wandered in then, followed by Fox and Falco, and as they were accepting plates and piling food onto them Link was struck with a thought.

"Does anybody have a clue where Vick lives?"

Again, it was Mewtwo who answered, quite unexpectedly. _Lucario has been there—she helped him prepare for his second evening at The Shadow at her residence, and that was where she pierced his ear. It's an apartment complex in the west Mushroom Kingdom district, some place called Shifting Sand Avenue._

Fox and Falco both visibly winced; Fox twitched so hard in his distress that a few droplets of his cranberry juice sloshed out the side of his glass. Kirby was there right away with a sponge, murmuring cooing sounds as if to calm them, and Midna glanced back and forth between the two of them. "You boys heard of it?"

"Wolf could tell you more about it than we could, but seeing as how he's not here…." Fox heaved a sigh. "Anybody who's an active player for either side in the Lylat Wars knows Shifting Sand Avenue—for the Loyalists, it's a place you never want to go because it's a hotbed for criminal activity. For the Separatists, it's a good place to follow up on some shady dealings. Cops don't go down there because the mob bosses and other crime lords have the place so well entrenched that it wouldn't do any good. It's a… bad neighborhood, so to speak. Not someplace you'd want to settle down, per se."

"Unless you were Al Capone," Falco interjected with a snicker. "But seriously, he's right—that's no place for Vick to be living."

Everyone considered this briefly, and then Meta Knight said, "She spends all of her time here lately."

"And that's not likely to change," Falco agreed with a growing smile.

Link quaffed the last of his orange juice. "We should ask her to live with us. Get her out of that place. She's a good kid, and God knows since she started hanging with us we've had some good times… she discounts all of our drinks at The Shadow."

"She's fun to be around," Midna put in.

_And she helped Lucario_, added Mewtwo. _He's very fond of her._

The others were all nodding thoughtfully. Link scowled at Mewtwo's back when he turned away.

"So it's settled?" asked Blaze. "We'll ask her to stay?"

"Only if she can stand living across the hall from me and adjacent to Marth, it's the only room left in this house!" reminded Link. "Yami mentioned last night that he was going to stay awhile, he's going later today to get a bunch of his stuff."

Midna glanced up. "You guys don't honestly think Ike will stay now that he knows things with Marth are really over? I mean, I know last night he took everything in stride, and I'm not saying he didn't deserve what they did, but if Marth means anything to him at all he won't stick around. He'll be in pain. And Marth has no intention of leaving."

There was another pause as they all considered this, some sorrowful and some quietly vehement, and then Falco asked a vital question. "So this guy Yami… he knows that we're here mainly to fight, doesn't he? Why's he sticking around? He doesn't look like much of a fighter."

"Last night at The Shadow, Vick said something to me about Duel Monsters," Link put in thoughtfully. "Supposedly there's some new technology that transfers the data from the deck into reality. So literally, he could fight with his Duel Monsters deck if he really wanted to."

"Kinda like Pokemon?" asked Fox, and everyone laughed… except Mewtwo, who turned away from the window with a glint of warning in his eye.

_I think Lucario and I have proven by now that Pokemon can be incredibly dangerous. And if you think that wild Pokemon are difficult to battle, pray that you never meet any of the high caliber trainers that roam the regions where my kind are plentiful._

Blaze cocked an eyebrow in interest. "Trainers?"

_Yes._ This was the most any of them had ever heard Mewtwo speak. _How much do you know of the world from which Lucario and I hail?_

"Absolutely nothing, though I find you and Lucario to be fascinating creatures."

Mewtwo turned away from the window and pulled up a chair between Blaze and Meta Knight, waving off Kirby's offer of juice. _There are four regions where Pokemon live—Kanto, Johto, Sinnoh, and Hoenn. Outside of those places my kind are incredibly rare, and only Pokemon with unbelievable strength dare to venture out of those regions at all. People that train Pokemon to fight are called Pokemon trainers; they capture Pokemon in the wild and nurture them until they are strong and wise. Many of these trainers are vile and thoughtless—truth be told, I despise most trainers—but there are a select few who treat their Pokemon as friends and trust them with their lives. Most of them are either Gym Leaders, or the members of the Elite Four._

"Gym Leaders?" echoed Falco.

"Elite Four?" Link repeated.

_The four regions are not untamed stretches of wilderness—there are cities where trainers live and gather. The strongest trainer residing in each city is the head of that city's Gym, an establishment that tests the strength of trainers and their Pokemon. All Gym Leaders are the absolute best at what they do._

_However, there is a place where the four regions blend together—a treacherous mountain path called Victory Road and a great temple known as the Indigo Plateau. It is here that the Elite Four resides. They rule the four regions with almost absolute authority, and they wait atop the plateau for lesser trainers to challenge them. I have met one of them myself—a man named Will, who specializes in psychic-types like me and had the audacity to try and catch me during my travels—and he is quite talented._

Blaze was looking impressed and appreciative of Mewtwo's tale—Meta Knight seemed to be eying the psychic Pokemon with newfound respect, as though he wished to challenge him to one-on-one combat and test Mewtwo's strength for himself—but Link had been listening closely to the story and had yet another question to ask. "You said the Elite Four rules with 'almost absolute authority'. Does that mean that there is someone, somewhere, better than them…?"

Mewtwo nodded solemnly, his gaze suddenly very far away; he abandoned his chair and returned to the window, where outside the first droplets of rain were beginning to fall. He was quiet for a solid thirty seconds before he answered Link's question. _There is only one—the League Champion. Someone who has defeated all of the Gym Leaders, challenged the Elite Four, and won. To my knowledge there is only one Champion, and there can only be one at any given time. To become League Champion, one must defeat the current Champion. It is the only way._

_But the man who claims that title now… I have never met him myself. But I have heard stories of his strength, his wisdom, his goodness of character and his benevolence toward all. He challenged the Elite Four several years ago and earned himself that title, and since that day he has not been defeated. His reign is the longest lived in the history of this hierarchy. There are some who say that he will never be beaten._

Falco was in awe. "Okay, sometime we need to go to one of these Gym Leader battle things. This sounds intense, I wanna see…. Hey Mewtwo, how far away are the regions you came from? Can we go there?"

_It would mean traveling for many hours, but yes, we could go. Johto is the nearest region and it is east of here; the region where I am from, Kanto, is even further east of that. Sinnoh, where Lucario is from, is north of Johto, and Hoenn is east of Sinnoh and north of Kanto. The Indigo Plateau resides where all four regions intersect._

"So sometime soon we're day-tripping to Johto," Fox summarized. "What are we doing today? The weather looks kind of shitty."

This was an understatement; outside the floor-to-ceiling kitchen window, a veritable monsoon was now raging in their backyard. The rain was falling so heavily that it completely obscured the view of the lake.

"Believe it or not, we rarely actually make plans," Meta Knight pointed out. "Generally the things that we do around here are spur-of-the-moment, or completely accidental. Though for now I think we should help Kirby tidy the kitchen, and try not cause too much commotion; half of our number are still asleep."

This was true; Vick and Lucario had been asleep for only perhaps half an hour, and they had yet to see Marth, Ike, Wolf, Yami, Pit, and Sonic at all. Since Meta Knight's logic seemed sound they all finished their breakfasts and helped Kirby clean up the kitchen before going their separate ways—for the moment being-, careful not to make much noise.

* * *

><p>Vick was up just after noon, ignoring several insistent protests that she should go back to sleep.<p>

"Four hours of sleep is pretty standard for me," she told them, waving one hand dismissively. "Honestly, I haven't slept a full eight hours since I was probably sixteen."

Lucario was awake about half an hour later, the last of their household to wake for the day, and by then Vick was seated at the kitchen table across from Yami, surrounded by all the residents of the mansion and looking almost dangerously focused. The aura guardian circled to stand behind her chair and dropped his supple paws upon her shoulders, starting when he glanced down at the table. There was a deck each in front of Vick and Yami, as well as several cards in each person's hand and a few cards on the table, some face up, some face down. It was a game Lucario had never seen before.

_What are you playing?_ inquired Lucario.

As he watched Yami drew a card, smiled at whatever he had picked up, and then did several things at once. He first picked up the two face up cards in front of him—Celtic Guardian and Mystical Elf, their headings read—and placed them in his discard pile, turned over one of his face down cards—Black Luster Ritual—and played one card from his hand—Black Luster Soldier. He then reached across the table and tapped Vick's only face up card—Doma the Angel of Silence—with his index finger, smiling knowingly.

Vick cursed and tossed the four cards remaining in her hand down upon the table. "You mean, what WAS I playing?"

_Did you lose?_ Lucario squeezed her shoulders comfortingly. _Is this Duel Monsters?_

"It wasn't just a loss," Marth chuckled. "It was a resounding loss."

The silver-blonde across from Yami fixed Marth with a withering look. Several of the others laughed. "Yeah, this is Duel Monsters. I built a deck in high school and Yami kept it for me when I ran away from home. We used to play all the time, but I never win."

More than one person crowded around the table raised an eyebrow at Vick's running away from home comment, but all of them decided that now was an improper time to press her for more details and instead filed it away for later questioning. Yami raked his cards together and shuffled his deck, his fingers going through the movement nimbly and efficiently. "But you've given me a run for my money more than once."

Vick scoffed and ruefully gathered her cards.

Lucario turned his attention to the window, where outside the storm had yet to subside. _Will the lake flood our backyard? If it keeps raining like this the lake will continue to rise…._

"There are drains along the bank, and all around the cliffs," Pit reminded. "It can't possibly flood. We'll be fine here."

Fox frowned down at his watch before clicking his scouter down over his left eye and watching a series of figures flash across the glossy green surface. The others watched this behavior quietly and curiously, until Fox sighed, shook his head, and the scouter whirred back into its customary place over his brow. "You know, Wolf left saying he'd be back soon, and that was two hours ago. Does that make anybody else a little nervous?"

More than one pair of eyes darted to the clock in the kitchen, which now read just minutes past twelve. This was true, they all remembered—Wolf had walked in fully dressed, politely declined the last round of Kirby's pancakes (or politely for Wolf, anyway), and driven away in Fox's Camaro just before the storm had reached their arm of the lake. When asked where he was going he had merely shrugged evasively and said he needed to run an errand and that surely he'd be back shortly, and when Falco had pressed him for more information the lupine had even laughed and assured them all that he wouldn't even kill anyone while he was out. Now that Fox mentioned it, that had been about two hours ago.

"He's not showing up on the homing application?" mused Falco, lowering his own scouter and watching some nonsensical letters and numbers scroll by until he turned the device off, dissatisfied. "Dammit, that means he's out of range, where the hell did he go?"

"I know this isn't the point, really," Vick put in, now shuffling her deck absentmindedly, "but can you really track each other using those things?"

Falco reached up and unclasped the scouting device from the left side of his head, handing it over for Vick to look at. It was clear that he rarely removed it, for the feathers beneath where it lay were matted down and looked as though no amount of preening on his part would improve the situation. "Oh sure. These are standard issue for anyone on either side who's contracted to do hit jobs. They keep adding applications so they get more and more useful all the time. Anybody you've ever had personal contact with via satellite communications is automatically stored in the contacts list, so even if Fox and I are half a galaxy apart we can still talk to each other clear as crystal. And since each scouter is embedded with its own unique homing device you can track each of your contacts individually—though that technology has its benefits and drawbacks. It works sterling in space, but down here where there are obstructions…."

Lucario was now turning Falco's scouter over in his paws. _Fascinating_.

"So if we all had these we could use them as walkie-talkies?" asked Pit with a chuckle.

Fox rolled his eyes. "Or you could just walk ten feet and say what you need to say in person, dumb ass, we all live in the same house."

Falco chuckled appreciatively and was just clasping the device back in its familiar place just over his left ear when the front door banged open and Wolf stomped in, a massive lumpy sack slung over one shoulder. As they watched he kicked out of his boots and shook vigorously, like a shaggy dog trying to dry its coat. Droplets of rain splattered the foyer; Blaze wrinkled her nose and Midna laughed.

"Santa came early!" exclaimed Marth. "Ho ho ho, what'd you bring me?"

Wolf launched the misshapen sack into the living room, where it clattered with an odd sound like plastic pieces banging together and immediately started dripping on the carpet. "Santa's a fat bastard with a beard, Marthy, and I didn't see even one hooker while I was out, much less three. Though I did bring you each a little something."

"You didn't steal all this stuff, did you?" whined Fox.

"Of course I did," cackled Wolf, looking as though this was really the only plausible answer. "I lost a million dollars yesterday. I figured the best way to celebrate that was to go on a nice shoplifting spree."

"Somewhere, Howie Mandel just had a stroke," murmured Yami beneath his breath.

"Too bad it wasn't you," Wolf snarled back, and Yami wisely held his tongue. "Anyway, I woke up this morning pissed off about losing all that money, and realized I was feeling kinda restless, so I decided to go for a drive—you know, listen to some death metal, work it out of my system."

Seemingly as an afterthought Vick reached down her shirt—she was showered and looked refreshed by now—and extracted the fine chain on which the almost luminous penny hung. This she tossed across the living room to Wolf, who caught it easily, studied it for a moment, then issued a single familiar bark-like laugh as he wrestled it around his neck and shoved it beneath his tactical vest.

"Much obliged, Ralis. So I'm driving, and it started to rain, and I was getting really fucking irritated when I saw Wal-Mart. And of course I pulled in, 'cause I remembered how accommodating they were the last time I visited and, er, acquired my Rock Band kit." Several of the mansion's residents were now either helplessly shaking their heads or laughing mirthlessly. "So I'm walking up and down the aisles thinking okay, I'm fucking angry and I kinda wanna pummel the shit outta someone, but then I remembered that we're not allowed to brawl in the house and it's pouring down rain. So I think, what do I do? So I came up with a very constructive solution that is not only home-interior-safe, but involves everybody. Not to mention it's a method of fighting, sort of."

Mewtwo didn't bother to move from his place between Lucario and Midna—instead he used his psychic powers to lift the bag, loosen the drawstring, overturn it, and spill its contents all over the floor.

Many brightly-colored boxes were scattered about the semi-damp stretch of carpet—different makes and models of Nerf guns, handguns and semi-automatic weapons and even rifles! There were also several plastic bags full of different types of foam ammunition—yellow handgun rounds, orange TMP rounds, long white rifle rounds, even a series of slightly heavier, acid-green foam balls. There were plastic clips for instant reloading with the automatic firearms, clip-on stocks for some of the larger munitions, even attachable scopes and flip-up crosshairs. Wolf had even thought to purchase several pairs of protective eyewear, with wide lenses for full coverage.

Everyone glanced up from the pile of newly-stolen merchandise, too flabbergasted for words—Wolf was standing over the now-empty sack, his arms folded and a smug look on his face.

"Oh!" Vick exclaimed with a laugh, kneeling down over the Nerf guns and perusing the options. "You want to have Nerf wars! Right?"

Link sat cross-legged next to her, sifting through the sacks of foam ammo. "What's Nerf wars?"

Vick was clearly excited about what was coming; she was now tearing into the nearest box and hurling cardboard out of the way. "I used to play every weekend with these guys who used to frequent The Shadow during their senior year of college—it was a function they set up through their fraternity house on some college campus in Mute City. It's pretty simple—you grab a gun, you split into teams, and you have it out! You guys want to play, right? It's the best!"

Several other mildly enthusiastic voices were chiming in now; Fox and Falco, interested in anything that had to do with warfare, were now helping Vick un-box everything, Lucario was shoveling all the spare strips of mutilated cardboard and twist ties into a large trash bag, and Midna was sorting through and separating ammo, cackling excitedly. Wolf watched these actions with the same smirk of victory, as though this was precisely what he had expected.

Yami was at a loss. "How do we play?"

"Did you guys have rules, Ralis?" Wolf interjected.

The silver-blonde sat back on her heels, smiling, a twist tie comically tangled in a few strands of her hair; Lucario laughed lovingly and plucked it out of her hair, tossing it in the trash bag. "We didn't when we started, but we added rules as we went—it gets pretty chaotic pretty fast, so you learn what doesn't work after about two minutes. A shot to the back, anywhere on the torso, or the head is an instant-kill shot. If you get shot in a limb—an arm or a leg—you can no longer use that limb. If it's your firing arm, you have to use your non-dominant instead. If it's a leg… well, you can't walk with one leg, can you, so you have to crawl."

"Brutal," snickered Falco appreciatively.

Vick nodded. "As for boundaries… this is a pretty big house, and the weather sucks, so let's keep it inside today and say all rooms are fair game. You can use furniture to barricade doors and build forts and stuff." Vick finished stuffing the last of the trash into the bag Lucario was holding, then looked all around to regard them. "Those are the rules for free-for-all; we made up lots of different versions of Nerf wars, but this one is the easiest to start play with. What do you think? You guys wanna play?"

Wolf, Fox, Falco, Link, Marth, and Midna were all nodding along like Christmas had come early; Mewtwo shrugged in a condescending way that the others supposed meant half-hearted interest, and Lucario smiled his eyes-only smile eagerly. Meta Knight's eyes were fixed almost obsessively upon the foam Nerf sword in the center of the pile, and while he didn't verbally answer they all knew what this meant; Blaze sighed and uttered a sound of compliance, and Yami finally nodded his agreement.

"I'd love to play," wafted Sonic's irritable voice from the recliner in the corner, "but seeing as how your friend the mindless barbarian mutilated my leg, I'll have to sit this one out."

"What a tragedy," lamented Midna, her voice dripping with poisonous sarcasm.

"I actually have to take off," Pit told them, and when they glanced at him quizzically he explained, "I'm meeting Rosalina for lunch and then we're going out."

"Oh yeah?" asked Marth interestedly, his arms laden with multiple pairs of protective glasses. "Where's she been the last week or so?"

Pit fluttered gracefully to the door—looking out, it was clear that the raging storm hadn't yet lost any of its intensity. "Supposedly Princess Peach and Mario renewed their vows—it was a small, week-long ceremony on some island halfway across the world, and Rose was invited."

"That's sweet," said Blaze with a small smile. "Enjoy yourself."

Palutena's emissary flashed one brief smile before launching himself out into the gale and pumping his wings furiously; Marth shouldered the door shut behind him before too much rain could find its way into the still-sopping foyer. Kirby chattered excitedly in his strange language, gesturing at all of them and then pointing at himself, and Lucario translated after a moment. _Kirby doesn't wish to play, but he has offered to referee for us, in an attempt to keep the game honest._

"Good idea, Kirby," congratulated Link.

"Okay," said Falco, "now how do we settle on teams? I don't expect we'll see Ike at all today, so let's count him out… that makes us… what, six on six?"

Yami took a quick head-count. "Twelve even."

"Ooh, can I be a captain?!" Vick squealed, and the others laughed. "I'm gonna warn you, I'm good! Who's brave enough to captain against me?"

There was a moment of brief consideration, then Fox chuckled and stood up. "I'm a pretty decent commander; I'll give it a go against you. Ladies first on gun choice?"

"Gun choice, or teammate choice?" Vick specified, ready to play hard ball by the glint in her steely eyes.

"Both, if it will make you feel better about the situation," the vulpine snickered in a rather superior fashion, and Vick scowled and snatched up an eight-chambered magnum-style weapon labeled Maverick and gave the group a quick once-over before pointing directly at Wolf.

"Smart girl," growled Wolf, stopping only to bend at the waist and retrieve the Longstrike CS-6 rifle-style Nerf gun. "Everybody knows the secret to bringing you down is to ally with your long-time nemesis."

Vick planted a kiss on Wolf's cheek—their camaraderie seemed stronger today than it had even yesterday on Deal or No Deal—and smiled sweetly yet dangerously at Fox as the younger mercenary commander glared directly back and selected the Vulcan EBF-25, a massive TMP cannon. He did not even need to consider his first choice. "Falco, buddy, I need you."

"Of course you do," agreed Falco with a good-natured laugh. "Vick, you care if I dual-wield?"

The avian had his hands on two identical six-shot handguns labeled Tek-6; Vick shot Wolf a glance, but the lupine didn't seem overly concerned with Falco's preference. "You'll need all the help you can get against me. Ralis, next comrade."

In the end, Wolf and Vick chose Marth, Blaze, Meta Knight, and Yami for their teammates (though Wolf was not overly pleased that the man responsible for costing him a million dollars and the woman who had lit his tail on fire in public would be standing next to him), while Fox and Falco chose Lucario, Mewtwo, Link, and Midna as their comrades-in-arms. While the two teams were arranging battle plans and setting strategies in hushed voices Midna conjured twelve ribbons of shadowsilk from thin air, six blue, six red, and offered them around to the others. Vick chose blue for her group, and Fox settled for red.

They squared off like classic gunslingers in the living room, looking quite comical in their protective lenses and shouldering various brightly-colored play-firearms. Link suddenly had a thought.

"Hey, Kirby—why don't you set the oven timer for thirty seconds or so? Give everybody an opportunity to find a place to hole up before this game starts?"

It seemed like a good idea to everyone else, and the moment Kirby tittered from the kitchen that their time was ticking the twelve of them split off, each face suddenly stern and focused. Vick and Wolf seemed to be entertaining similar ideas—or they had the same defensible position in mind already—for they wasted no time in vaulting the railing of the basement staircase and pounding downstairs into the darkened sub-living room; Lucario and Mewtwo exchanged a glance and nodded simultaneously, as though engaged in private conversation, and joining hands they flitted upstairs—though to the second or the third floor, no one could immediately guess. Reluctant to let the two formidable Pokemon form any sort of plan Marth tore off after them, and Yami followed after barely a moment's hesitation.

Fox and Falco, it seemed, had plans for the living room; while several of the mansion's residents took to the upper and lower levels of the house the two mercenaries set about overturning furniture (though neither of them attempted to dislodge a disgruntled-looking Sonic from his out-of-the-way easy chair). Falco kicked over the couch and shoved until it was adjacent with one of the walls, while Fox dragged the loveseat until it was blocking one of the kitchen-to-living room archways and launched himself over the top of it. Meta Knight and Blaze watched this with mild interest, though it seemed that neither of them had any intention of leaving—Blaze opened the foyer closet and snuck behind it for cover, and Meta Knight blended into the shadowy alcove in front of the shut door that led to the laundry room. Dissatisfied with their odds but seeing no other option, Link and Midna bolted downstairs to find cover in the final seconds that remained.

Just as Falco finished his preparations and nestled himself down between the couch and the wall, the oven timer dinged in the kitchen.

Hell immediately broke loose in the sitting room.

Shouldering the Vulcan's considerable weight Fox lifted himself up onto one knee and took aim at the foyer closet over the top of the loveseat; Blaze was just leaning around the edge of the door and had no choice but to leap back within her sanctuary when several orange TMP bolts thudded off the outside of the door. Meta Knight was quicker; the moment Fox opened fire on Blaze he unfurled his still-tattered-looking wings and beat them once, experimentally, before gaining confidence and fluttering out of the alcove and into the center of the sitting room. Fox marveled at Meta Knight's agility, surprised but pleased that the damage hadn't been longer-lived from his last brawl, and re-adjusted his aim to bring the new threat into his sights.

The first spray of orange foam darts were all true to the mark, but Meta Knight had armed himself with the foam Nerf sword and sent it into an easy spin, deflecting all of the darts before any of them could strike him. Falco leaned around the arm of the overturned couch and took aim at Meta Knight's back, preparing to put him down while Fox held his attention, but Blaze darted out from behind the open foyer closet door and thwarted him with a single, tiny black foam dart.

Falco ducked down and held his shot, amazed at the feline's accuracy. He had laughed when she had chosen the Secret Strike AS-1, a derringer-like firearm laughingly adorned with a keychain hook that only held one dart at a time, but now he knew better than to underestimate her! Even as he watched she shoved another dart into the single chamber and drifted back into the foyer closet.

"Did I get you?" she called from between the racks of coats.

The avian couldn't help but laugh in admiration. "No, but I definitely felt it whiz by my ear, another few millimeters and I'd be on the ground embarrassed!"

"Pity," he heard her chuckle, and then he also heard, quite keenly, the sound of the derringer being cocked.

The Vulcan whirred to life as Fox squeezed the trigger down on the TMP cannon, but Meta Knight was already past the television and had skirted into the kitchen via the eastern entrance—the one Fox hadn't blocked with the loveseat. Fox cursed and tore the Vulcan from its mount before leaping over the loveseat and dashing the length of the living room, his eyes on Falco's hiding place, as at the same moment Meta Knight soared over the loveseat after him and Blaze leaned around the closet door—

-Falco lifted himself up from the floor, a Tek 6 in each hand pointed at each of Fox's adversaries, and clicked off one shot on each. Both darts found a mark—one dinged off Meta Knight's faceplate, a clear kill shot, and the other struck Blaze in the right shoulder. To her credit, she dropped her weapon immediately in accordance with the rules, but dipped low in the same movement to retrieve it with her left hand and roll back into the protective closet interior.

Fox settled down into the makeshift trench beside Falco with a high-five, checking his weapon's ammunition—half of the belt-fed chain remained, though he had two more ready to load in slung over his shoulder in the event he needed them. He elbowed the avian gently in the ribs and indicated the basement staircase, whispering, "Head downstairs and help Link and Midna against Vick and Wolf, 'cause they'll have their hands full. I'll cover you. Hurry!"

Falco didn't need telling twice—Fox, the youngest appointed commander on both sides in the history of the Lylat Wars, had impeccable judgment and had never purposely steered his favored wingman wrong. The avian kicked off the wall and rolled around the couch, diving down the stairs, and when Blaze peeked around the closet Fox accosted her immediately with another defensive spray.

* * *

><p>Downstairs, battle had joined quickly and ended just as fast.<p>

Link and Midna had scarcely reached the landing when the oven timer had dinged the end of their thirty-second prep period upstairs, and both had been standing stupidly out in the open of the basement sitting room when they had been fired upon. Wolf had constructed a cunning fort by shoving the couch, the loveseat, and the overstuffed armchair together into a U-shape, and using the arm of the loveseat as a crutch he had launched a single steady shot that thudded into the center of Link's sternum, taking him out instantly. Midna had had the presence of mind to launch herself to one side, narrowly avoiding Wolf's second rifle dart, but as she was hurriedly skittering to conceal herself behind the antique cabinet Vick had leaned around the precariously-upturned pool table and shot the Twilight Princess square in the back between the shoulder blades.

"You weren't kidding, Ralis," Wolf marveled, opening the Longshot's chamber and loading two more darts into it before latching it shut and swinging it up to balance upon his shoulder. "You are good. And in the back, too—cutthroat. You'd make a good merc."

Vick laughed and reloaded the Maverick. "There's a difference between Nerf wars and Lylat Wars, I would assume. I'm not cut out to be a hired gun. Foam darts don't hurt nearly as bad as laser bolts do, I'm sure."

"None of the guys that come and go on the Star Wolf squad ever bitch about taking a shot around me—I took one in the eye, it doesn't get any worse than that." Wolf barked out a harsh laugh that was completely devoid of mirth—quite the contrary, it was a rather bitter sound. "Even my best man Leon Powalski—that kid is younger than Falco and is covered with scars, but he never complains."

"You'll have to tell me the story of how you lost your eye one day," Vick pressed, settling into position with her back comfortably against the underside of the pool table.

Wolf propped his rifle upon a few sturdily-stacked couch cushions and slumped down to wait. "You buy me a round at The Shadow tonight and you've got yourself a deal."

"I'm gonna hold you to that."

At that moment, Falco slunk stealthily into their midst via the staircase connecting the first floor to the basement. Midna and Link mechanically shoved out of the way, toward the walls, and were it not for that tip-off Vick and Wolf might not have noticed the avian was among them at all.

Seeing that Wolf was scrambling to get his hand up to the trigger Falco chose the Star Wolf leader as his target, blasting off a shot from each of the Tek 6's before strafing to one side and shouldering open the door that led to Sonic's room. One of the darts zipped right over Wolf's ear, stirring the fur but not quite striking him, and the other nicked off the barrel of Wolf's rifle!

"You cocky son of a bitch!" howled Wolf, and abandoning his favorable cover he edged toward the open door, rifle balanced on his shoulder and finger light on the trigger.

"Wolf, he's baiting you, play smart!" shouted Vick, not moving from behind the pool table.

"Hey, you don't like my idea, you're free to bail," Wolf snapped, unforgiving, over his shoulder.

Vick cursed under her breath but held her position. Wolf nudged the door open with the barrel of the Longshot and leaned around the doorframe, looking in but not moving, scouring the semi-dark bedroom for any sign of movement.

Sonic's room was a mess. The bed was unmade and the covers and pillows were strewn carelessly all over the floor; at least a dozen pairs of running shoes without matches were taking up most of the floor space near the folding closet, which stood partially ajar. It was on this curious phenomena that Wolf turned his attention, taking his first cautious, soundless step into the bedroom, staring down the crosshair mounted on the barrel and silently daring Falco to move even the smallest muscle and confirm his suspicions that his long-time adversary was lurking in the closet.

Five feet from the closet, Wolf realized his unbelievable error in judgment when the bedcovers on the floor were kicked to one side and Falco trained both Tek 6's on Wolf's back, easily striking him twice in the same kidney. For a moment they eyed one another, the avian smug and amused, the lupine glaring daggers, and then Wolf played his final card as he sat down and admitted defeat.

"Ralis! Take off!"

By the time Falco managed to reach the door, Vick had already dashed up the stairs toward the ground level.

* * *

><p>Pounding footsteps resounded on the third floor of Brawler's Mansion as Yami chased Mewtwo down the hallway, furious that the psychic Pokemon had put Marth down almost the moment they had crested the stairs to the second floor. Yami, unskilled in any method of battle whatsoever, had received a stroke of luck upon turning the corner into Fox's room and meeting the barrel of Lucario's rifle; the aura guardian's gun had jammed when he had pulled the trigger, and at a range that close even Yami couldn't miss. He'd plugged Lucario five times in the stomach with the Stampede ECS for good measure and dashed off before Mewtwo could catch wind of what he'd done. Because if Mewtwo found out… well, he didn't want to think about that.<p>

Gun leading Yami flattened himself against the wall and leaned cautiously around, searching for his target, but all of the bedroom doors were closed and Mewtwo was nowhere to be seen. Pit's greenhouse room, with its all-glass windows, was easy to check without even entering and it seemed safe enough, but his, Blaze's, and Kirby's rooms were all shut tight and Mewtwo could be waiting behind any of the doors. Gritting his teeth he proceeded slowly to the first in line, Kirby's, and placing his hand upon the knob and turning with exaggerated care he admitted himself.

Kirby's room had the feel of a child's play space. All of the walls had been plastered with glow-in-the-dark plastic stars, masterfully arranged in the shapes of constellations (though Yami didn't recognize any of them, and assumed it was the night sky as seen from Kirby's home in Dreamland). There was a plush pillow of what appeared to be a wand with a star at its head in a place of honor in the center of Kirby's tiny bed (which more closely resembled a small hammock), and small objects strewn all over the floor from dominoes to brightly colored blocks. The closet was tightly shut and Yami wasn't feeling particularly brave, so he retreated from the room and shut the door behind him without investigating it.

After giving his own bedroom a quick once-over (and silently vowing to tidy up his desk with its disorganized piles of Duels Monsters cards), Yami eased open the door to Blaze's room. Even as he took his first step inside he prayed that the cat never discovered he had been snooping about her private quarters, for she didn't seem to be the forgiving type. The room in which Blaze resided was meticulously clean and organized, albeit sparsely furnished; the only real personal effect in the entire space was a picture in a plain frame upon the lavender nightstand, a photo of Blaze wearing an uncharacteristically radiant smile and embracing a silver hedgehog that vaguely resembled Sonic. Mewtwo didn't seem to be here, though, so he backed out quickly without touching anything.

Mewtwo was waiting for him outside of Kirby's bedroom door—Yami cursed silently to himself for not checking Kirby's closet before—and had the Firefly braced against one narrow shoulder, ready to fire.

Behind him, Vick pulled the trigger on the Maverick first and nailed the unsuspecting Mewtwo in between the shoulder blades.

Yami exhaled in relief and lowered his weapon, careful not to look Mewtwo in the eye for fear of meeting his forbidding, terrifying gaze; instead he focused on Vick, who had already reloaded her magnum and was beckoning for him to follow her. Not wanting to be left behind to fend for himself, Yami followed without hesitation.

"Who's left?" he asked, checking his ammo as an afterthought, which was pointless as he was carrying a TMP and he had hardly used it.

They had reached the second floor landing, where Vick padded up and down the hallway with great caution before returning to answer his question. "They're down to Fox and Falco, but those boys were born with guns in their hands, they'll be tough to beat… We're down to you, me, and Blaze, who surprisingly is holding her own in the closet by the front door. I think Falco is still downstairs planning his next move, but Fox and Blaze are trading shots in the sitting room. Blaze lost her dominant arm."

Yami sighed, his confidence ebbing. Vick was good, but against two seasoned mercenaries, what chance did they have?

"Do me a favor," Vick murmured as they reached the last stairs leading down to the ground floor, where the sounds of battle were loudest. "Run ahead of me."

"Which way?" Yami asked, baffled.

"Just make a dead sprint from the stairs to the hall by the kitchen and into one of the bedrooms. I need you to draw Fox's fire so I can find a defensible spot."

Yami didn't like this idea, but what choice did he have? Shouldering the Stampede ECS he leapt the last three stairs and dashed into the living room, bracing himself for the darts that would surely be raining down upon him—

_Chik chik chik chik chik chik chik!_

Fox was tracking Yami from the moment his boots hit the landing from the staircase; only Yami's speed and agility kept him from being hit in the opening moments as he dashed desperately across the open expanse of the living room. Fortunately for Yami, Vick and Blaze were both ready to cover him; Vick took off at a run for the loveseat that Fox had originally lodged in the archway separating the kitchen from the sitting room, firing and re-cocking the Maverick to fire again, and even as Fox adjusted his aim to take her out Blaze strafed out of the closet and shot once with her little Nerf derringer. All of Vick's shots were amazingly close to finding their mark—two of the six shots ricocheted off Fox's weapon—and Blaze's tiny dart somehow nicked off the fingertips of the hand he now used to hold the trigger down. Aghast, Fox dropped his hand, wondering how he could possibly go on using a mounted TMP cannon with just one hand—

Vick cursed and flung herself over the loveseat to safety, tearing into the plastic hip pouch she had donned to carry extra rounds and reloading feverishly. Blaze had cleared the path for them to take out Fox and she only had a few crucial seconds to reload and rush him, before he regrouped—

Raising herself up to her knees she immediately ducked back down; Falco was just cresting the stairs from the basement and fired relentlessly in her direction. Even as Vick huddled down, practically molding to the overturned loveseat, several Tek 6 darts sailed into the kitchen.

"Gotta hand it to you, Vick, you've got hella awesome reflexes!" called Falco, and the laughter in his voice curled Vick's lip upward in a snarl. He was taunting her.

As Wolf had done downstairs not ten minutes before, Vick took the bait and hauled herself up over the loveseat, magnum leveled and ready to fire.

The amount of support she received from her two remaining teammates shocked her, and for a moment everything was chaos. Vick had no choice but to dive for the ground when both Fox and Falco opened fire on her the moment she took her feet, but Yami diverted their focus by leaning around the wall of the narrow hallway and returning the volley back at them. Fox and Falco ducked behind the couch, hunkering against the wall, and as Vick tucked into a roll and skidded into the kitchen Blaze fired again, though this shot sailed wide.

"My belt is almost out," panted Fox, gesturing at the Vulcan with his only "still functioning" hand. "Give me one of your handguns, I can't reload this thing—"

Falco handed over a Tek 6 and tore the belt from the TMP, pulling a full belt off Fox's shoulder and feeding it into place. Fox rose up and fired three times on an unsuspecting Yami—the third shot hit him square in the forehead.

"One down," Fox announced tersely. "Two to go."

"Watch out for Vick, she's good… speaking of which…." Falco dared to peek around the side of the couch, where aside from Yami taking a seat against the wall there was no movement. "Where'd she go?"

"Back behind the loveseat?"

"No…."

_Chik. _They had forgotten all about Blaze in their trepidation to gauge Vick's whereabouts; a single well-fired dart from the derringer thudded against Falco's beak, and when Fox growled and turned to return fire she simply giggled and ducked back into the safety of the foyer closet.

"Damn," sighed Falco, setting down his weapon in defeat. "Taken out by a chick with no merc experience. Don't tell Pepper. He'll fire my sorry ass for sure."

"No worries," assured Fox. "I got this."

"Got what?" chuckled Falco in an undertone. "You're down to one arm. You can't reload anything on your own. You're so fucked it's almost funny."

As if to accentuate Falco's point, Blaze dipped low and clicked off a shot in Fox's direction. It whizzed past his shoulder and landed harmlessly at the feet of the armchair in which Sonic still lounged.

"In her defense, that girl Blaze is a dead-eye," marveled Fox, but he had developed a plan and put it into action in the tense seconds that Blaze struggled to reload. Abandoning his cover he leapt over Falco and rushed the closet, but Blaze wasn't his target; instead of risking letting his team down and losing the game by actually assaulting her he shouldered the closet door shut, wedging an umbrella against the handle. Blaze thumped her fists against the door, but to no avail; she was trapped, and she knew it.

"Good call," Falco congratulated.

Vick chose that moment to reappear from the kitchen, and Fox's blood almost froze in his veins; in one hand she still held tight to the Maverick, but in all the confusion she had also somehow gotten hold of Yami's TMP, which she cradled now in her non-dominant arm, safely against her side.

She opened fire with both guns.

Fox yelped and dove for the couch, but he might as well have been trying to dodge cars on a busy freeway; the Nerf darts were all around him, and simultaneously he felt himself get struck in the forehead, the stomach, and the kidney.

"Alright!" he shrieked, arms over his head. "I give!"

Vick and Falco doubled up with laughter. Fox slumped down against the overturned couch, looking incredibly irritated.

"You boys need to get better at this game! How were you not shot and killed during the war?" chided Vick, and when both Loyalist mercenaries shot her poisonous glares she wisely dashed into the kitchen and returned with beers for them both.

* * *

><p>Dinner was a laid back affair, heaps of grilled cheese sandwiches and Kirby's from-scratch potato soup recipe with all the fixings, and they had decided to go with Vick and Lucario to The Shadow when the two left for their late-night shifts. Though Link knew his decision to include Ike was rather ill advised he still made a point to stop by and knock politely on the door – it was likely Ike would decline, he knew, for he hadn't shown his face all day and that wasn't likely to change just because alcohol was involved. Link stood at the door for a full minute before knocking a second time, frowning to himself when Ike didn't even stir on the other side, and in a last-ditch effort to make Ike feel included despite what he had done Link tried the knob to find the door unlocked.<p>

The moment he set foot in the mercenary's room, he wished he hadn't let himself in at all.

At first glance the room was obviously vacant; all of Ike's personal effects had been removed and the space was as tidy as it had been the day they had all moved in. The bed was made, the light was off, and the window was ever-so-slightly ajar; were it not for the whipping wind that was accompanying the howling thunderstorm and rustling the curtains Link may not have noticed the window at all. He circled the hastily-made bed and pulled the window shut with a curious sensation of deep loss growing within his chest, and turning back he finally noticed the note that had been taped to the back of the door. This he removed hesitantly, for he found he subconsciously knew without reading what the note said.

_I have to go. I can't stand myself for what I did. I have to figure out how to keep from fucking up all the time, or I'll never have a shot at cleaning up my life. None of this is Vick's fault, so don't hold it against her. Tell Marth I'm sorry._

_~ Ike_

Link read and reread the note several times, scarcely able to bring himself to believe that Ike was gone, before crumpling the note up in his fist and discarding it in the empty wastebasket.

* * *

><p>The Shadow was at capacity, and Vick had lost a bartender an hour previous to a sudden bout of the flu; it was fortunate that Lucario's music was so captivating, for there was a line of party-goers lining up down the street waiting to be admitting who had broken out in dance just waiting for their turn to hit the dance floor. Occasionally she caught a glimpse of a pair of her friends dancing beneath the flashing lights, or fighting through the tight-knit crowds in an attempt to make their way up to the bar for another drink, but the evening was passing in an incomprehensible bar and she devoted every moment to just keeping the bar system from completely breaking down.<p>

She was recovering from her traditional heavy metal cover hour with a bottle of Michelob Ultra and a lime wedge when she saw him for the first time – not that she was the only one who took notice of him, for he stood out like a sore thumb. He was tall, well over six feet with a solidly built body and a chiseled face that was both cruel and handsome, like sculptures of Roman gods she had seen in history books before she had dropped out of school; he wore all black, a trench coat that skimmed the floor when he walked and a pair of sunglasses that perfectly masked his eyes behind their impossibly dark lenses. One of her fellow bartenders asked her a question then, or made some sort of insignificant remark that didn't quite shake her from the spell she found herself under, and she set her bottle aside as her eyes traced his every step.

**NEWCOMER: ALBERT WESKER**

_(Resident Evil)_

He stopped halfway up to the bar, and then Vick knew he was looking at her by the sudden thrill of delight and fear that shot down her spine. After a moment that seemed to last for an hour one corner of his mouth twitched upward into a smirk – a little too malevolent, but cocksure and playful – as he raised one black-gloved hand and quirked one finger in her direction.

Beckoning for her to come to him.

_Holy hell… you-goddamn-betcha._ Vick hopped off the rear bar, bottle of beer and half-formed conversation utterly forgotten, and circled the counter; she weaved eagerly through the nameless and faceless bodies still gyrating to the melodious electronica, until she had reached his side and smiled up at him as though she had known him all along.

"You need something, stud?" Vick pitched her voice low and made sure it was saturated with seduction; if some drop-dead gorgeous Adonis with a black Kevlar fetish was looking to get laid, she wanted to be at the top of his list of candidates, after all.

The man shocked her then, lowering his sunglasses down to the tip of his nose for only a moment – just long enough for Vick to register the startling hue of his eyes. They were crimson with flecks of molten gold, alive and dangerous like pools of roiling magma. "I do."

"Anything I can give you?" _Oh damn, that was a good line, please for the love of Christ say yes._

"That depends," he purred, in a voice as soft and seductive as black velvet, "on what you are prepared to offer."

_Cha-ching._ "You'd be surprised. You got a name?"

He nudged the sunglasses back up onto the bridge of his nose – for which Vick was secretly thankful, for those laser-like irises unnerved her more than she would ever care to admit. "Wesker."

"Well Wesker, I'm Vick, and my evening just opened up."

"I thought so." And the man who called himself Wesker turned his back on her and cut a path for the door, and Vick followed after him after barely a moment's hesitation.


	13. The One With Vick's New Boyfriend

By the next day, the members of Brawlers Mansion were really starting to worry.

When an hour had passed the previous night and Vick hadn't returned, Toshi had ordered The Shadow closed down and practically begged Lucario and his friends to scour the streets of Bullet End for her. None of them had needed telling twice, as by now she was like a sister to them all, but when six a.m. had come and signaled the end of their search party they had all come up at a loss. They had met back at The Shadow to tell Toshi the news; the poor club owner had burst into tears and ran out without looking back.

They spent an hour more at the bar together, half-heartedly helping Lucario tidy up the bar as the sun peeked over the dingy buildings across the street, re-counting everything that had transpired up to the point of her disappearance and mulling over where she might have gone. It wasn't until about seven a.m. that they had begun to make any progress, which was the moment when Falco, absentmindedly sweeping up stray bottle caps with a cobwebbed broom, suddenly recalled seeing Vick run out the door on the heels of a man in black clothing.

Lucario had spared no time in calling Toshi and describing the scene to him. Toshi, delirious with concern, had never seen the man in his life. Unsure of what to do next, the residents of the mansion had retreated to their home to consider the situation further.

None of them had slept since the night before last, and it showed. Kirby hadn't made any breakfast and barely had the heart to brew coffee for all of them; Midna, Falco, Meta Knight, Marth, Mewtwo, and Link all sat gathered around the kitchen table, mugs of long-cooled coffee untouched in front of all of them. The only movement came from Lucario and Wolf, both of whom were pacing the length of the kitchen silently with their hands behind their backs. Fox had left about a half an hour after they had come home from The Shadow—he had a job interview at Mushroom Kingdom's new Arspace facility, Black Sapphire.

For more than an hour, no one spoke. Around nine a.m. Falco kicked his chair out from beneath him, rose up and slapped his fists down upon the table, spraying the wooden surface with droplets of cold coffee. "Dammit! I can't stand this! I'm going back out to look for her and I'm not coming back until I find her."

"I'm in," growled Link, looking deranged in his determination.

"Give me a fucking gun, I'm gonna kill that bastard in black if he so much as bruised her," Wolf snarled, and for once Falco didn't argue; instead he practically tore one of the laser pistols from its holster on his belt and tossed it at the Star Wolf commander, who caught it easily and marched purposefully toward the door. Lucario was barely half a pace behind him, his eyes burning crimson—

-The front door barely missed Wolf's muzzle when it swung inward and Vick stepped into the foyer, beaming radiantly and arm-in-arm with the man in black clothes. Behind Wolf and Lucario, the others skidded to a halt, shock apparent on all their faces.

"Hey guys!" Vick waved at them with her free hand, the same ridiculous smile on her face; several among the group noticed that she was wearing the same clothes she had been wearing while at The Shadow. "What's up? Did we miss breakfast?"

And she walked in, reluctantly releasing the black-clothed man's arm to remove her shoes, as though nothing at all was different. The others continued to stare at her in amazement until she straightened, noticed their expressions, and clapped her hands over her mouth, her cheeks reddening at once. "Oh! I'm rude! Everybody, this is Wesker—Wesker, everybody."

She pointed out each of them individually and introduced them, but the man called Wesker did not acknowledge any of their names with even the slightest interest and none of them welcomed him. Vick was the only one who seemed not to notice the very palpable tension now permeating the room.

_Um, Victoria…?_ began Lucario, timid and protective all at once.

"We've been through this. It's Vick."

_Right. Well… where have you been? We shut down The Shadow, we spent hours searching for you… you didn't call or otherwise mention where you were going or when you would return. We have all be very worried. _It was the first time any of them had ever heard Lucario speak to Vick in a less than passionate way, and she noticed the change in tone right away; she stepped right up to Lucario, her eyes pleading, though she was careful not to touch him, they all observed immediately.

"I'm sorry… I've been with Wesker. We've been… well, everywhere! And I'm sorry I didn't call, but I was nowhere near a phone, and I didn't think you would worry this much. I can take care of myself, you know." She ended with a wink, and Lucario forced a smile for her benefit. It took a conscious effort on his part to remember that his relationship with Vick hadn't changed in the slightest; it was Wesker he was taking issue with, so he had no reason to be angry with her.

Playfully, Lucario ruffled her hair. _I'm glad you're safe. Contact me next time so I don't worry, hmm?_

"Sure thing. What's up? Where is everybody?"

On a silent glance from Lucario, Link led the way into the kitchen while Falco explained where the others had run off to. Vick kept very close to Wesker, but he did not so much as look in her direction. Once they had gathered around the table, Midna put on a fresh pot of coffee; Wesker did not sit, as the others did, but contented himself with standing to the left of the floor-to-ceiling window. Vick stood as close to his side as she could without actually coming in contact with him. It was behavior that was quite unlike Vick, the strongest, most individualistic woman any of them had ever personally met; she seemed to revolve around Wesker, like a planet orbiting its sun.

_There is an unusual presence about this man,_ echoed Mewtwo's voice in Lucario's mind, their conversation closed to the others. _I have no rational way to explain this, but I sense that he is something more than human. We would do well to keep an eye on him._

_Agreed. Already I do not trust him. _Then, so that everyone except Vick and Wesker could hear, Lucario finished, _We must all be ready. If he appears to pose any sort of threat, we must put a stop to it._

No one moved, or spoke, or made any other indication that they had heard Lucario say anything, but it was suddenly very clear—if Wesker gave them even half a reason, they would be all over him.

Not surprisingly, Wolf was the first among them to address Wesker directly. "So, Wesker… what do you do? You don't really fit the description of barfly, in my opinion."

Wesker's expression did not change when he answered. "I suppose you could say that I'm a scientist."

"Oh yeah?" Wolf was doing his very best not to sound defensive or confrontational, but Falco, who knew him best out of those present, took note of the way the mercenary commander's face tightened. Wesker's voice was smooth, silky, dangerous, and undeniably superior, and it had Wolf rattled. "What do you study? Chemistry? Biology?"

"Neither. I am a viral researcher."

The hair on the back of Link's neck was standing on end; it was as though he had been dowsed with icy cold water. "That's interesting. So, what, you study different viruses and try to find cures? For things like cancer?"

Wesker actually laughed, like this was an outlandish hypothesis; the sound of his laughter was like dark music, sending a thrill of guilty pleasure singing down Vick's spine and a well of bile into everyone else's throats. "You couldn't be further from the truth. I engineer viruses and test them. I don't study existing viruses—I create new ones."

"That's fucked up," Midna blurted, and even Vick wasn't fool enough to dismiss the tension now mounting in the kitchen. "You CREATE viruses?! What the hell for?!"

Reaching one gloved hand up, Wesker re-adjusted his sunglasses with a bemused smirk. "I'm afraid that information is confidential."

"Do you test this shit on PEOPLE?!" shrieked Marth, looking livid and horrified all at once.

Vick looked excited to disprove Marth's swiftly-budding theory. "Actually, he told me last night that he's tested a few of the viruses on himself! Isn't that wild?!"

Listening to Vick talk about Wesker was like listening to a preteen girl gush about Justin Bieber, Lucario thought with the quietest of frustrated sighs. _Er, yes. Fascinating._

"Let me see if I understand you correctly," Meta Knight began, trying to sound cordial but seeming monotone instead, his voice heavy with disgust. "Not only do you engineer viruses for your own personal designs, but you also test these creations on yourself? Isn't that potentially lethal?"

Wesker didn't seem to mind at all that the general atmosphere within the kitchen was one of blatant hostility; quite the contrary, he seemed highly amused that he had them so on edge. "Potentially, but I have highly receptive DNA. You see, my genetic material includes a very rare, highly sought-after gene that allows for the constant re-construction of my own DNA. At the company I used to be affiliated with, we called this gene the Tyrant gene. It is found in only one person out of every ten million."

Was Wolf's hand resting on the pistol Falco had given him? "What do you mean, the company you used to be affiliated with?"

Wesker's smirk widened. "It is difficult to keep a company from going under when all of its employees are dead."

No one was foolish enough to believe that Wesker hadn't been involved in the grisly murder of every single one of his former coworkers—it was implied in his sinister tone of voice, really—and the effect this statement had on all of them was instinctual and instantaneous. Eight pairs of feet struck the floor almost simultaneously, though Lucario's hand was upon the handle of the patio door before anyone else's, and then they were all racing out of the mansion, across the deck, and down the rickety wooden staircase into the rain-dampened backyard.

"Did all eight of them just challenge you to a brawl?" asked Vick, looking up at Wesker with both adoration and concern as Yami entered with Sonic on his heels. "All at the same time?"

"So it would seem." Wesker shrugged out of his trenchcoat and tossed it carelessly over one of the wooden chairs circling the table. "No matter. If they are curious of my power, I will show them."

"By yourself-?"

"You doubt me?" Wesker's gloved hand, resting upon Vick's shoulder, squeezed suddenly; Yami started and gasped, certain Wesker was causing her pain.

Amazingly, though Vick winced, her face was serene—almost as though she were blissfully happy. "Of course not. Just making sure."

Wesker started for the door. "Then come."

Vick bounded after him like an obedient puppy following its master; Yami and Sonic exchanged a curious glance (having missed most of the conversation) before trailing outside after them. Once outside Wesker descended the stairs slowly, leaving Vick to scramble up onto the roof with Sonic and Yami to watch the spectacle. The others were waiting for him, Link, Marth, and Meta Knight with swords drawn, Falco and Wolf clutching laser pistols, Midna's form enshrouded in shadow, Mewtwo's eyes cloudy-white with barely-contained psychic energy, and Lucario enveloped in a turquoise aura so bright it was almost blinding.

Pausing just twenty feet away from them, Wesker uttered a low, forbidding chuckle. "Look at all of you. You would think I had just killed your families."

This was an insult none of them were prepared to abide.

Falco and Wolf squared their stances and fired at almost precisely the same time, their over-developed trigger fingers unbelievably fast, but they realized their error at once—the moment Wesker smirked bemusedly and dodged every single bullet, his form simply winking out of existence for a split second and materializing in a different spot. Awed and terrified, it was a moment before either of them could fire again.

A moment was almost an infinite period of time for someone like Albert Wesker.

Faster than Sonic he was upon them, rushing Falco before the avian could so much as blink—it was as though he could disappear and then reappear at will, the only hint of him moving at all a slight blurry trail that he left behind him. And then Wesker struck, a graceful yet powerful move from a martial arts school none of them could name, a strike to Falco's stomach that sent the ace pilot careening backward almost fifty feet! He landed flat on his back, winded, dazed—

Wolf pivoted on his back heel and managed to squeeze off three more shots, adapting far better than Falco had; he anticipated that Wesker would move in one direction or the other to avoid the first shot, so the second and third laser bullets he purposefully fired to the left and right of the first. He had no choice but to watch, dismayed, as Wesker dodged all three with unbridled speed, clearly untouched.

And nonplussed. "Come now. Is that all you have?"

The Master Sword held aloft Link charged in, Marth flanking him with Falchion, and they struck simultaneously. Wesker sidestepped Link's stroke, which was clumsy, and literally caught Marth's blade with the palm of his gloved hand and tugged it from its owner's grasp with barely an effort. Weaponless, Marth tried to roll out of the way, but Wesker moved with him, faster than sight, driving his elbow into Marth's back and leveling him to the ground.

The moment Wesker attacked Marth, Midna vanished and Meta Knight unfurled his wings to aid Link, but it was already too late for the Hero of Time and he knew it. He managed to land a blow to Wesker's forearm with his sword before Wesker could regain his feet, but this seemed to have no effect at all; he rose up, shrugged, and shoved Link back using the same arm the sword had bit deeply into. Link pulled the sword free—blood gushed freely from Wesker's arm, though he seemed not to notice—but couldn't raise his weapon fast enough to block the kick to his chest that effectively cracked all the ribs on the left side of his chest. He slumped to the ground not far from Falco, each breath a near impossibility.

Midna lunged at Wesker from his own shadow, a serrated blade seemingly constructed from wisps of darkness clenched in her hand; Wesker moved, each step dizzying to watch, so quickly that he was behind her before she had even begun to drive the sword home, and wound his arms around her so tightly that she screamed aloud. Wolf fired, Meta Knight slashed at Wesker's ankles, and Wesker tossed Midna carelessly away from him. Several things happened, almost too quickly to perceive; as Midna stumbled away she took all five of Wolf's laser bullets to the chest and dropped like a stone, Wesker back-flipped over Meta Knight, and landing on the other side he struck Meta Knight's faceplate so hard that it dented and then cracked. Meta Knight collapsed, unmoving.

Wolf bared his teeth and snarled as ferociously as he could manage, retrieving Falco's other pistol and training both upon Wesker before firing with reckless abandon; laughing openly now, Wesker tirelessly maneuvered around each shot, leaving Lucario and Mewtwo with no choice but to dodge in return. Falco threw himself over Link, who was in too much pain to protect himself, and Marth deflected a few bullets away from Midna with his own sword—

_Stop! _Mewtwo bellowed. _You fool! You will kill us all in your desperation!_

Even as he said this a spray of sizzling bullets zipped toward Lucario, and with a flash of his glowing white-ice eyes Mewtwo erected a psychic shield just in time, absorbing all of the energy with ease.

Mewtwo's words were enough to give Wolf pause, though his animalistic snarl did not diminish at all; in the instant that Wolf considered the words Wesker was upon him, driving his fist into Wolf's shoulder and sliding it cleanly out of its socket before delivering a kick to Wolf's knee that shattered the kneecap with a sickening crunching sound. The only sound Wolf uttered was a growl of something that sounded like helpless frustration, and then he slumped to the ground.

Lucario and Mewtwo stood together in the center of it all, observing their delirious friends with disbelieving eyes, before training their identical expressions of hatred upon Wesker. Through it all, Wesker's only emotion had been cold, uncaring amusement; now he reached up to remove his sunglasses, sliding them meticulously into a pocket of the Kevlar shirt he wore. There was silence as the two Pokemon regarded their adversary and his startling ruby eyes, blazing with the intensity of an erupting volcano.

_It falls to us to eliminate this threat,_ observed Mewtwo, his voice a low growl in Lucario's mind.

Lucario did not answer, and the two of them broke apart suddenly as though predicting one another's movements. Link watched them move through bleary eyes, one hand gingerly over his abdomen as pain wracked through his body, praying with every fiber of his being that Lucario's and Mewtwo's unusual powers would be enough to put an end to the man called Wesker.

Mewtwo struck first, extending one paw before him when he drew near enough to their enemy to land a blow, and a wicked set of blackened claws extended from his paw and tore through the fabric stretched over Wesker's chest. Four long lashes, bright with blood, became clearly visible as he moved almost imperceptibly away. Wesker followed, moving too quickly for the others to follow, but Mewtwo was a veteran fighter whose psychic powers always gave him an edge; they moved together, almost seeming to compliment one another, Wesker a blur of aggressive motion and Mewtwo doubling back with his claws extended defensibly—

Wesker never saw the aura sphere coming, so engaged was he in pressing Mewtwo for the advantage that he was oblivious to the fact that Lucario had drifted to his back. The glowing azure sphere connected solidly with Wesker's back, burning his trenchcoat away, searing through the Kevlar and scorching his back. Without missing a beat Wesker turned and trained his focus on Lucario, startling the Aura Guardian with his unwavering focus and unmatched intensity, and if their attacks had injured him at all Wesker didn't show it.

One of Wesker's gloved hands clamped down upon Lucario's throat and he hoisted him off the ground, cackling at Lucario's obvious helplessness and ignoring his feeble attempts to free himself; even when Lucario formed an Aura Sword with one of his free hands and slashed the weapon cruelly across Wesker's arm the other man didn't relent, didn't even slacken his grip until Lucario grew still and hung limp.

He was just tossing Lucario to the ground when Mewtwo attacked him with the full devastating power of his psychic abilities, a wave of pulsating violet energy that actually caused Wesker to stumble in his tracks. This moment of weakness was enough for Mewtwo, who fell upon Wesker at once and unleashed a pulse of purest blackness from his body. Everyone within fifteen feet of this blast gasped and shrank back, their minds reeling with black thoughts and their stomachs turning over with fear and revulsion—

Mewtwo didn't realize that his attack, while effective against everyone around him, had had no effect on Wesker until Wesker's form blurred and he appeared behind Mewtwo, driving his fist into Mewtwo's spine. The force of the blow was enough to jolt Mewtwo from consciousness and he collapsed facedown into the grass.

Seemingly in the same instant he appeared before Vick on the roof, blood seeping from several different wounds but clearly unfazed by them, and Vick scrambled to her feet with an impressed squeal as both Yami and Sonic cowered away from him.

"That was incredible!" Vick exclaimed, stretching up onto her tiptoes to kiss him, and although Wesker allowed her display of affection he certainly did not reciprocate it. "You were great!"

"Yeah," gasped Link in the yard, glancing around worriedly at his seven fallen comrades as one-by-one they came to. "Really great."

* * *

><p>Yami couldn't help but stare open-mouthed at the group waiting for him seated around the kitchen table at Brawlers Mansion. With Kirby still away from their home and no one else within the house able to cook anything for such a large group it had fallen to him, the only one left in the household who wasn't sustaining an injury, to go out and get pizza. It was a sorry sight that met him when he returned.<p>

Midna was reclining in the armchair in the living room, a multitude of bandages covering her chest beneath the thin ruby shroud she wore, her breathing slight as she rested; on the couch a few feet away lay Link, his tunic discarded at his feet and his abdomen taped up tight to support his cracked ribs. In the kitchen, the others had circled around the table and were clutching various alcoholic beverages; Marth was also shirtless, an ice pack secured to his back with a kind of flexible wrap to reduce the swelling around his spine. His head lay upon Falco's shoulder, who had already pounded two beers in the time that Yami had gone to pick up the pizza and was halfway through his third. Meta Knight had removed his face plate (a rare sight that none among them had ever personally witnessed), and his ebony face was expressionless beneath the patchwork of bruising that covered his right cheekbone; Wolf sat beside him, his arm bound to his side, his shoulder braced in plaster, one leg propped up on an empty chair and his knee locked straight in a partial cast. Lucario and Mewtwo leaned against one another, the former's throat swollen and tender with bruising, the latter's eyes fluttering closed at irregular intervals and a bag of ice taped to his back in similar fashion to Marth's.

Yami slid the stack of steaming pizza boxes onto the kitchen counter and reached into the nearest cupboard for plates. No one acknowledged his presence and every face was glum and unrepentant.

It wasn't until Yami started passing out plates to everyone that anyone spoke; Wolf was the first to find his tongue, which was unsurprising. "I fucking hate that guy Wesker."

"I hope he dies," drawled Falco, beak contorting into a snarl. "Soon. In a really humiliating way. Like choking to death on his own sunglasses or something."

Lucario lifted his head tiredly, his eyes weary but simmering with the same intensity. _I might be prepared to abide his arrogance and brutality were it not for the fact that already, it seems, Victoria is far more involved with him than I would like._

This was a detail that the others hadn't considered; with groans of pain and protest they all turned in their seats to face him. In the living room, Link turned his head and Midna opened her eyes.

"Too involved?" echoed Meta Knight, his voice a slightly different timbre than usual in the absence of his face plate, somehow deeper and rougher. "How can she be? They met barely twelve hours ago."

Lucario glanced over at Wolf for help. The others found that the Aura Guardian was suddenly looking very uncomfortable. Wolf leaned forward with some difficulty, a grimace momentarily darkening his face.

"Look, we know Vick, and it wouldn't be far from the truth for me to say that we all love her, but let's not let the way we feel cloud the reality of the situation. Vick's a great chick, but the fact remains that she's, well—" Wolf actually broke off for a moment and shifted, casting around for the correct word to use. "—Easy." He held his hands up in front of him in defense when the others gasped in shock and outrage at his accusation. "Come on now, shut the hell up and listen to me! She's fantastic, but her standards are low, aren't they? After all, she slept with Ike…."

Marth was too tired and sore to even put up a protest to this remark; he instead settled for glaring venomously at Wolf, who merely shrugged as though he had only pointed out the obvious.

"Anyway," the mercenary commander continued, "at this point it's safe to assume that, well, in the nighttime hours that she spent with Wesker last night, they were doing to big nasty. That makes her very involved, like Luca said."

"And did you see the way she acted around him this afternoon?" Link chimed in from the sitting room. "She was like a rabid anime fangirl meeting fucking Inuyasha. It was ridiculous."

Midna snorted. "Inuyasha? Really? That's your go-to?"

_Regardless of the way we feel about her actions_, Lucario growled protectively, _Victoria is in too deep already for us to solve the situation merely through conversation. I feel that we have no choice but to let things play out as they may, and assert our influence at a time most favorable to us._

There was a slight pause, only long enough for the others to consider just what Lucario was proposing; Falco was the first to catch up, and he leaned forward as quickly and vehemently as his sore torso would allow. "You mean, let her keep screwing that asshole?! Let her bring him over here whenever she wants, just so he can kick the shit out of us?!"

Lucario sighed, his face crumpling into an expression of utter helplessness. _For now, it is all we can do. She is remarkably attached to him, considering the short amount of time that has passed. To destroy him now would be hurtful to her, and she will resent us for it._

Marth was the one to add the words that Lucario had carefully avoided. "Not that we could kill him anyway. All eight of us barely scratched him…."

_It would take a force beyond all of us here to put a stop to Wesker,_ Mewtwo concluded. _Lucario is right. For now, we can only abide his presence and defend Vick as the need arises._

There was not a single face that accepted this decision graciously—quite the contrary, all of them looked mutinous—but no one argued. In their hearts, they knew that every word Mewtwo had said was true.

They were halfway through their meal before someone spoke again—it was Link this time, in a tone of voice that suggested he was asking his question despite his better judgment. "You know, we don't have any proof… no one asked her… do you really think Vick slept with Wesker?"

Falco surprised them all by letting his arms flop down incredulously onto the table and snapping a skeptical glare in Link's direction, saying, "Oh come on, Link! Be serious! Did you even LOOK at that guy?!"

Midna scoffed in agreement as Lucario shuddered delicately and Marth's eyes slid slightly out of focus as he daydreamed; Link watched all of these reactions without understanding. "Yeah, thanks, I got a really good look at him while he was kicking our asses. What the hell does it matter if I looked at him or not? How he looks doesn't prove anything!"

"It proves everything," Midna argued, turning her head to regard Link. "Including the fact that Vick undoubtedly slept with him."

"How…?"

"Seriously," sighed Marth, shaking his head in disbelief and irritation. "Let me spell it out for you: he wears black leather, he's got a voice like a phone sex hotline, he practically oozes danger, and he's fucking ripped. Of course she slept with him. I kinda wish I could bang him myself, honestly."

"Me too," chimed in Falco whimsically.

"There's nothing worse in the entire world than an unbelievably sexy dooshbag," Midna agreed reluctantly.

Link shook his head stubbornly. "But don't you all see how dangerous that is?! She could get hurt, she could get killed! His power—"

_We know, Link,_ Lucario interrupted wearily. _We are all concerned, as you can see._

It was an effective end to the conversation; they all chewed their pizza slowly, thoughtfully, without speaking again until something very strange happened: a very loud clatter sounded from overhead, almost as though something very heavy had landed upon the roof and was now scuttling around. Several of them straightened into positions of alertness; all eyes were turned upward onto the ceiling, expressions ranging from curiosity to trepidation.

Their only clue as to what was happening was that, barely a half-second after the din began, a grin of shameless anticipation spread across Yami's face and he clenched one fist before him in victory. "Ah, at last—an opportunity at redemption!"

And without any further explanation he strode the length of the kitchen, threw the glass patio door open with rather more enthusiasm than was needed, and hurried out onto the back porch. Those members of the household that could readily follow after him—Marth, Falco, Meta Knight, Lucario, and Mewtwo—without exerting themselves too much did so at once.

Yami was standing in the center of the weather-beaten deck, his boots only a few inches from the topmost step of the wooden staircase, his back turned to the yard and his arms crossed over his chest; he had craned his head back to regard the roof, and the almost overbearing smile had not abated. The others followed suit and glanced up.

It was clear at once that the clattering they had heard had been caused by the massive creature that their eyes fell upon first, a hulking orange beast that stood on two stubby legs, balanced with a long, strong tail, and curled its powerful wings in close to its impressive body as they regarded it. It was a creature straight from their wildest fantasies, and though none of them made the obvious observation aloud it was clear that they were gazing upon a dragon—there was no other word for the majestic beast they now beheld. But the dragon was not alone—it had borne a rider who, despite the utter magnificence of his mount, still cut a far more impressive figure in comparison. His clothing was a very fine, dark blue material embroidered with rich orange-amber stitching, his boots worn but sleek and black; a black cape with a high collar rippled behind him, caught up in the light breeze that was all that remained of the previous night's brutal thunderstorm. His hair was like fire, both in color and appearance, but this did not make him seem unkempt or undisciplined in any way. But it was his eyes they would always remember, twin deep blue sapphires that shone with honor, respect, and confidence. He regarded Yami and Yami alone with the intensity of his stare, though to all who looked upon him he exuded his benevolent yet commanding presence, like a monarch appearing before his adoring subjects.

**NEWCOMER: LANCE**

_(Pokemon)_

"So," Yami spoke up after a time. "You have come at last."

The newcomer's head twitched, as though he were attempting to rid himself of an irksome fly. "At last? I received your summons only two days ago. I made for this place with all speed and without delay, as you so rudely demanded. Or have you forgotten?"

"You invited him?" Falco interjected, glancing from Yami to the man perched upon their roof and back again. "Why?"

"Simple," Yami began, his smile faltering a little in favor of a most bitter grimace. "To take his undeserved crown from him. To strip him of the title that, but all rights, should be mine!"

"Crown?" echoed Meta Knight confusedly. "Title?"

The man with the dragon mount tipped his head down to address Meta Knight directly; there was no hint of superiority in his tone. "This is merely a formality, and his pitiful attempt at showmanship. I own no literal crown—nor do I desire one—but a well-deserved title I have, and have held for many years, that Yami covets most dearly. That is why he has asked me here."

"Well-deserved?" barked Yami, looking affronted. "I suppose no one bothered to tell you that I'm the King of Games? I am the true heir to the title you so wrongfully claim! I am Yami, the reincarnation of the great Pharaoh Atem, and I challenge you!"

"This isn't a game," insisted the newcomer with passionate persistence. "This is my life. I am Lance, the Dragon Master, and in defense of my title of Champion I accept your challenge!"

_Champion?_ Lucario repeated, awe in his voice and dawning comprehension in his eyes, but only Mewtwo heard Lucario speak at all and simply nodded once as though he had suspected as much all along.

The orange dragon that had borne Lance to Brawlers Mansion unfurled its powerful wings and beat them once, forcing them all to brace themselves against the gust of wind that kicked up as a result; Yami turned and fled, his boots pounding as he descended to the backyard, and from a hip pouch his practically tore a well-used deck of Duel Monsters cards and a strange rectangular object that fastened around his wrist. He slapped his deck onto the flat metal surface and the contraption lit up, multicolored lights flashing, casting Yami's figure into shades of blue and violet—

The scouter window clicked down over Falco's eyes and he studied the technological analysis readouts for barely three seconds before murmuring to the others in an undertone, "Yami's packing some technology that I've never seen before. Its origin is untraceable. They don't carry that sort of thing even on the Fringe."

By this time Link had trudged onto the deck supporting Midna, Wolf and Sonic both limping along in their wake, in time to see Lance leap upon the back of the orange dragon as the creature rose from the roof and soared down to land in the backyard opposite Yami. Once there, Lance dismounted and swept his cape back over his left shoulder, revealing several marble-sized, red-and-white orbs fastened to his black belt; he seized one of these between his thumb and forefinger, plucking it from its place on the belt, and as they watched the orb grew in size until it was about the size of a baseball.

The King of Games and the Champion squared off, the former's figure dulled by the shadow of a cloud passing overhead, the latter illuminated in a sudden patch of radiant sunshine.

From his metallic gauntlet Yami drew six cards; he perused them with a single sweep of his keen violet eyes before making his opening move. "For my turn, I place one card face-down, and I summon the Dark Magician to stand against you!" Yami then tossed a single card out in front of him, which landed face-down in the springy grass, and then a second, which whipped through the air as though caught in a vortex—

-A beam of brilliant light emitted from the front of the metallic gauntlet he wore, scanning the card as it spun end-over-end before him; the card vanished, seemingly into thin air, and in its place stood a humanoid figure draped in the raiment of a great necromancer. In its long-fingered hand it clutched a violet staff topped with a shimmering green stone, and it fixed its master's opponent with a stern-face glare.

"What the fuck?!" exclaimed Marth, stumbling back a step in disbelief, but no one could think of a single word to offer in explanation.

Lance folded his arms over his chest and held his chin high, matching the Dark Magician's glare with a sincere smile. "Pretty," he acknowledged, tipping his head politely, "but you always were predictable, Pharaoh. To battle against your Dark Magician, I choose… Altaria!"

He cast the red-and-white sphere to the ground barely two yards from Yami's Dark Magician, summoning the creature within from the flash of blinding white light that followed; when the flare had subsided they were afforded a glimpse of what Lance had called upon. It supported a cloudlike body with a pair of dreamy, sky-blue wings, and though it was much smaller in size than Lance's mount it was also clearly of dragon descent.

Necromancer and dragon sized one another up, ready to fight to the death at their master's slightest command.

"Go Altaria," commanded Lance in his regal voice. "Show this imposter that we are not afraid to protect what belongs to us."

The cloudlike dragon Pokemon pealed a battle cry like a bell tone and dove from on high, its spindly claws extended toward its prey, the picture of a perfect predator as it dive-bombed Yami's Dark Magician—

"Predictable, am I?" bellowed Yami, and sweeping his arm out wide he overturned the face-down card that lay at his feet in the grass. "Your Altaria has flown right into my trap… the Magical Hats!"

Incredulous though it seemed, the card with the magenta backdrop dissolved into the ground and split into four overlarge black magician's hats; not only that, but the Dark Magician vanished from sight the moment the hats sprang into existence. Lance barked a single command at the diving Altaria, which beat its wings furiously to reverse its momentum. The cloudlike dragon hovered several feet away, safe for the moment but stalled in its assault.

Yami threw his head back and laughed, idly drawing a card from his deck and tossing it to be caught in the vortex summoned by his metallic gauntlet. "Are you feeling lucky, Dragon Tamer? If you guess correctly, your Altaria will more than likely obliterate my Dark Magician. But if you guess wrong… well… let's just say the odds will shift into my favor."

Lance swept the line of interfering hats with a practiced, nonplussed gaze, before craning his head back to regard Altaria. "The choice is yours. I know you will not fail me."

Altaria beat its wings and opened its mouth wide; a beam of blue-white energy shot from its maw and tore through the hat on the far left side. Even from their considerable distance, the watching brawlers could feel the intense cold radiating from the blast. When the chilling ray had abated and the fog it had left behind had lifted somewhat, they could clearly see the Dark Magician laying frozen in the grass.

A furious-eyed Yami waved his arm yet again, this time recalling all three cards previously played from the field and sliding them into the empty tray on the reverse side of the gauntlet. He drew another card before fixing his opponent with a wicked smirk. "You always did have the luck of the devil, Lance. Sometimes I forget."

"Is this small loss you have suffered enough to dissuade you from this course? It should be clear to you that you cannot defeat me." Lance crossed his arms over his chest, looking inconvenienced.

"Fuck of a lot of trash talk coming from the new guy," Wolf rumbled to the others, studying the technological makeup of the Poke Balls fastened to Lance's belt and frowning at the information whirring fitfully across the surface of the scouter window.

"But he's backing it up, so what does it matter?" Link retorted.

"Twenty bucks on that guy Lance?" Falco offered, but no one answered him; already it was clear that Yami was in over his head and no one was foolish enough to bet against Lance.

"I sacrifice two monster cards in my hand to invoke the power of the Black Luster Ritual," Yami called across the battlefield—even as he said this he tossed two cards from his hand, both to be lost in the whirling twister kicked up from the gauntlet. "And using the Ritual's magic I summon the Black Luster Soldier!" From an extradimensional space stepped a massive armored figure, clad in black glass raiment and carrying a sword longer than the tallest among them. "Arm yourself, Dragon Tamer!"

Lance heaved a sigh, though out of boredom of the fruitless proceedings or frustration at Yami's stubbornness, no one could be sure. He held out one hand palm-up for the discarded Poke Ball to bounce back into, and Altaria vanished within its depths in a shower of white stardust. Replacing the now marble-sized orb he drew out another and threw it out before him, shouting, "Garchomp!"

It was quite a different dragon that took the offensive for Lance now, but a dragon all the same; it was lithe and quick-looking, with a lean body a violent purple color and scythe-like claws at the ends of its paws. It raised its scaly lizard head and roared at the black-armored warrior, exposing its razor-sharp jaws as it wailed.

"Black Luster Soldier! Attack! Use your superior strength to crush his dragon!" The armored warrior dashed forward, clanking with every step, its devastating sword held aloft as it charged in to obey its master's wishes.

Lance squared his shoulders. "Garchomp! You are the stronger! Don't shy away! Use Strength!"

Garchomp shrieked its almost otherworldly roar again and lurched forward, snapping its jaws, stomping to meet the Black Luster Soldier—

-They clashed in the center of the yard, burly swordsman and feral dragon, their foreheads crashing together and their arms shoving with all the strength they could muster. The onlookers gasped at the sheer strength of the two combatants, awed at the power their two seemingly-unimpressive comrades commanded on a whim, silently vowing never to judge anyone at face value ever again. Garchomp stalked forward one hard-won step, snarling and gnashing its teeth, bowling the soldier with the black glass armor backward until he sprawled upon the grass, and Garchomp was upon him in an instant, teeth flashing in the late afternoon sun—

"No, Garchomp," called Lance, taking a step forward and reaching one hand out toward the violet-skinned dragon that fought on his behalf. "Spare him. He is beaten and the Pharaoh knows it."

Amazingly, the ferocious creature heeded to Lance's command, leaping off the soldier's chest and stalking back to its master most obediently; as Lance stroked Garchomp's neck appreciatively Yami scowled and recalled the Black Luster Soldier to the graveyard deck on the reverse side of the gauntlet. He eyed Lance almost jealously for a moment, fingertips trembling upon the top of his Duel Monsters deck, before drawing one last card from the top of the pile.

Despite his two losses, Yami looked quite smug when next he looked up. "For my next move, I discard every card in my hand."

More than one brawler in the crowd gasped aloud; even cool and collected Lance widened his eyes a little at the bold proclamation. Yami dropped all of his cards to the ground except one; this one, he tossed far away from him, where it broadened and materialized into his last line of defense. "I summon the mighty Magician of Black Chaos!"

If they had been convinced that the Dark Magician was the most dreaded spellcaster they had ever laid eyes on, they now changed their opinions; the humanoid they beheld now was even more abhorred, and carried an even darker and forbidding aura of magic about its form. It narrowed its yellowed eyes at the Champion Lance and brandished a black staff in both hands, undoubtedly the source of its deadly magic. No one doubted that the creature Yami commanded now would be a formidable foe for every single one of them to face.

Garchomp dissolved into a cloud of violet mist; its Poke Ball shrunk in Lance's outstretched hand, and he calmly replaced it upon his belt. Pivoting on the spot he glanced over his shoulder at the waiting orange dragon that had tirelessly borne him the distance, to find it watching him with intelligent, understanding eyes.

"It falls now to you, Dragonite, to eliminate the last of Yami's minions," Lance bade it, his voice a wellspring of confidence, and stroking his hand once down the Pokemon's muscled neck he waved Dragonite forward into battle.

There were no orders to be given from either side. Each of the creatures that represented them now had followed them against impossible odds, and knew the true wishes of their hearts, and would freely and gladly sacrifice their lives for their masters.

The Magician of Black Chaos twirled its scepter effortlessly in one hand, conjuring a massive orb of crackling darkness from the arcane relic and launching it from the head of the staff. Dragonite beat its mighty wings several times in rapid succession, whipping the light breeze into a gale around them with enough force to drive the sphere of dark magic off course. Undeterred, Yami's mage thrust its free hand out before it, an open spellbook balanced in its palm—

A devastating crack of thunder rent the sky and a bolt of lightning streaked through the clouds, splitting the ground between Lance and Dragonite. The bolt was near enough to knock Lance from his feet and strong enough to jolt Dragonite off-balance, an opportunity that the Magician of Black Chaos was quick to capitalize on. It twirled the staff again, launching yet another sphere of darkness at its unsuspecting adversary—

Dragonite opened wide its maw and bellowed its strange cry, emitting a beam of some kind of wild energy that lanced through the orb, dissipated it, and struck the Chaos mage square in its narrow chest. The force of the blow sent the mage flying backward, past Yami, to collapse into an unmoving heap in the grass. Falco and Wolf both shuddered at the power readings on their scouters, then gasped aloud when Dragonite's beam peaked in strength and shattered both of the delicate windows covering their eyes.

"Dammit, these things cost a fortune," complained Falco, removing the device from the side of his face and tossing it to the deck at his feet, where what remained of the superior technology crackled uselessly.

"For you goody-two-shoes Loyalists, maybe," Wolf snickered, rolling his own scouter over in his hands bemusedly. "Separatists can get these things a dime a dozen on the Fringe, if you're in deep with the black markets."

The avian took a moment to rummage in a velcro pouch of his flight jacket before producing a single silver coin and flipping it to Wolf, who caught it effortlessly. "Buy me one then, but don't ever tell General Pepper I did a business deal with you or I'll get demoted again."

The prospect of Falco cooling his heels during the next inevitable Lylat War seemed to entertain Wolf's fantasies for a moment, but then he shrugged nonchalantly and tucked the coin into a pouch on his belt for safekeeping. Below, Yami was bent over the Magician of Black Chaos; using their strange energies, Mewtwo and Lucario could hear the Pharaoh's reincarnation pleading with his dark mage to rise and keep fighting.

"Let it rest," Lance called from across the backyard, patting his Dragonite's flank lovingly as the beast returned to his side. "You've been soundly defeated, Pharaoh. Will you stop badgering me now?"

Yami, his head bowed and his slender shoulders twitching with despair, did not readily answer. Accepting his silence as acquiescence enough, Lance held up an empty Poke Ball at the Dragonite's eye level; amazingly enough the great dragon nudged the center dial with its snout before vanishing into the depths of the orb. Securing it to his belt, Lance strode across the lawn and up the stairs to join the other brawlers; upon reaching their level, he actually dipped a bow.

"I apologize," he began, straightening and offering them all a smile of utmost sincerity. "I have a bad habit of letting my sense of honor interrupt my manners at times. I should have introduced myself to you first—after all, this is your home, and I am only a guest. I am Lance, called Dragon Master, by some. I hope you don't think me rude."

Several heads swiveled in Link's direction. It took Link a moment to remember that it had been his idea for them to gather here from the very start, and that many of them regarded him as their undisputed leader. He weaved between Midna and Wolf to offer Lance his hand in greeting. "No way! I'm Link, of Hylia, called Hero of Time, by some. It's good of you to have come! Half the reason we're all here is to try our hands at battling in as many different styles as possible. And damn… that sure was something! Been training Pokemon long? Just the other day Mewtwo was telling us about…."

But whatever Link said next fell upon deaf ears; Lance's eyes had slipped a few inches past Link's face and fallen upon Mewtwo and Lucario, their hands joined and their eyes on one another, the pose they usually assumed when they were having a private, silent, psychic conversation. Link's last sentence tapered off lamely as Lance's hand reached ever-so-slowly for his belt, where his fingers grasped an unused Poke Ball and readied it to throw.

The throw was expert—it could have been a professional baseball pitch for its accuracy and speed—but it never found its mark; it was six inches from Mewtwo's chest when the psychic Pokemon's tail whipped up and slapped the ball away. It sailed over the porch railing and bounced through the yard before rolling to a stop near the lake's edge. Lance blinked confusedly, clearly taken aback, and Mewtwo snapped a highly-affronted glare upon the Dragon Master.

_How rude_, snarled Mewtwo in psychic speech, and several of the brawlers laughed, both in reply to Mewtwo's words and Lance's dazed expression.

"I might as well warn you now that M-2 and Luca aren't up for catching," laughed Link behind his hands. "They're here to fight, like us!"

Lance's hand twitched toward his belt—presumably to take up yet another unused Poke Ball—but somehow he resisted the urge and clenched his hand into a fist. A kind of longing had glazed over his sapphire eyes. "But… that Mewtwo… it's legendary! Here it is completely by sheer happenstance and you're saying you won't allow me to capture it?"

_You can have him over my cooling corpse,_ promised Lucario in a deadly voice, and Mewtwo smiled the strange eyes-only smile that the two of them had long since perfected and dropped an appreciative paw down upon Lucario's shoulder.

"Then at least allow me to challenge it to a formal battle," Lance said, his voice yearning now.

"Maybe some other time," Link broke in quickly, seeing the fury in both Mewtwo's and Lucario's eyes.

"What do you mean when you say that Mewtwo is legendary?" asked Meta Knight curiously, and Lance's eyes doubled in size.

"Surely you don't mean to imply that you are unaware of Mewtwo's value?" said the Dragon Master in an incredulous tone. "You must know that it is the only one of its kind!"

All eyes were upon Mewtwo now, who, if possible, was shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.

"Must've slipped his mind," snapped Marth in disapproval, and Mewtwo looked away guiltily.

"Does the same go for Lucario?" put in Midna, her eyes sparkling with interest. "Is he the only one of his kind too?"

Lance shook his head, though he regarded Lucario with no small measure of reverence. "No, there are other Lucario in the world, but they are quite rare and very difficult to obtain. They tend to be very strong-willed, unbelievably stubborn, and possess overwhelming strength. Though I have heard that trainers who are fortunate enough to obtain one find themselves with an unwaveringly loyal partner."

When it was clear that Lance was not mocking him, Lucario actually turned a smile the Dragon Master's way and nodded once to acknowledge the compliment. Link patted Lance on the arm as Falco slung an arm around the shorter man's shoulders.

"Well," the avian began playfully, "I'm famished. Say, Lance… I don't suppose you know how to cook?"

* * *

><p>It was about eleven o clock in the evening when Pit, Blaze, and Kirby finally returned to Brawlers Mansion; the other residents of the house were still awake, of course, gathered together in the sitting room and chatting over the low droning of an old science fiction movie. Pit took one look around at all of the bandaged appendages and bruised faces, allowed his eyes to hover on Lance (whom he did not recognize) for a moment, and planted his hands on his hips.<p>

"How long were we gone?" he asked confusedly. "Who beat the hell out of you guys? And who is this?"

He leveled one finger in Lance's direction. Lance frowned, but only until Blaze laid one hand upon the angel's arm and forced his hand down to his side. "Don't be rude. Clearly we have yet another new guest." Blaze snapped her golden gaze upon Lance, who cleared his throat delicately before introducing himself.

"Remember that guy dressed in black that Vick ran after last night at The Shadow?" Falco explained, as Pit sat cross-legged on the floor with his back against the wall and Kirby scurried into the kitchen to whip up a late-night snack for everyone. "She brought him home this morning. He threatened our mothers. We stepped up. He bitch-slapped everybody."

"That's the short version of the story," Marth chimed in sourly. "In the long version he bitch-slaps everybody, and then stomps on our nuts."

"Or proverbial nuts," Midna put in.

Sitting in the center of the sitting room and looking quite confused, Lance opened his mouth to ask a question when Lucario interrupted him by answering, _Yes, it is always like this here._

"Fair enough," chuckled Lance, and he settled back to watch.

Pit turned back to Falco. "So that guy in black did this to you? Er… why, exactly?"

Rolling his eyes Falco launched into the story, with the others chiming in every so often to add key details he had forgotten. When it had been told, Pit's eyes boggled. "Eight-on-one, and you guys LOST?! Man… who the hell is this guy Wesker?"

"We don't know yet," growled Wolf, sprawling out flat on the floor and glaring up at the slowly-rotating blades of the ceiling fan. "But if he values his life, he'd better not show his face around here ever again."

* * *

><p>There were seventy floors to the tallest skyscraper in the Mushroom Kingdom business district, and the topmost floor was an executive landing only that required a special key, for both staircase and elevator access—a key which, naturally, Albert Wesker had in his possession. He marched straight for the staircase on the right side of the empty, dark ground floor lobby and dashed all the way upstairs to the locked door to floor seventy—he never bothered with elevators, as he was much faster than modern technology. The key turned easily in the lock—too easily. He removed the key and frowned as the door swung open. Unlocked already… his business partner had beaten him here. Though the hallway here was polished and tiled his boots made no sound whatsoever on the hard surface; he paused with his black leather-gloved hand upon the knob of the executive office, the only room on floor seventy. It was two o clock in the morning.<p>

There was a man waiting for him on the other side of the door, standing in the precise center of the office with his back turned to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the business district; his face was wreathed in shadow, but Wesker's superior eyesight took note of every feature. It was a face he had seen many times quite recently—it was a face that unsettled him, a feeling he did not enjoy.

"Did you make it to the mansion?" drawled his business partner, his voice bored, as always.

"I did." Wesker closed the door behind him and leaned against it, arms crossed, perfectly at ease. Though it was dark, both outside and in the office, he did not remove his sunglasses.

"And did you… observe… the riffraff gathered there?"

"I did rather more than observe," Wesker corrected. "I battled eight of them."

"And of course they were no match for you." His business partner was simply stating the obvious; Wesker liked that about him. He never mixed words and he always got straight to the point.

"Of course. Another newcomer joined them today, but it matters little. Their numbers could double, triple in size, even, and they would still pose no threat to us. When the time comes to eliminate them the task will be all too easy."

His business partner was pleased with this assessment—it was plain to see in the depths of the tarnished yellow-gold eye that was not hidden by the pale blue hair obscuring half his face. "I thought as much. None remain that could oppose us. These so-called 'brawlers' will fall with barely a fight. It's hardly a scenario to get excited over."

Wesker's crimson eyes flashed behind the depths of his black lenses. "Actually… there is one yet that might cause us a little difficulty."

As quickly as the pleasure appeared in the yellow-gold eye, it now vanished. There was a steely edge to his partner's voice now. "What?"

Wesker actually hesitated before answering, though not out of fear—he simply wasn't quite certain just what to say. "I have not met him, nor even seen him. I have only heard whisperings of him, though every word spoken was outlandish and, if I am not mistaken, farfetched. The claims that he exists at all may be false. Of him, I know only this—he calls himself the Traitor, or Judas, though neither of those titles does he claim as his true name. By all accounts, he is unstoppable. If he were to join the brawlers…."

Wesker trailed off, expecting his business partner to pick up his train of thought and dispel the rumors, mildly surprised when the yellow-gold eye closed and only reopened when it seemed more composed.

"The Traitor, the Judas, does exist," confirmed Wesker's partner, his face a little too idle, a little too collected. "I have seen him once with my own eyes, though it was from afar; I do not know his face, only his reputation. He kills without thought or reason all who cross him, and he allies himself with no one. Even if the brawlers recognized his obvious talents, they would never join forces with him. He is too volatile, too bloodthirsty, for their good natures to abide."

"Will he not join us?" asked Wesker, though he was sure he already knew the answer.

"No." This was all the answer his business partner gave him, and no other explanation followed.

After a time, Wesker shrugged. "I am not concerned. No help great enough to thwart us will come to aid the brawlers. When the time is right, they will all die. I am certain of it."

"As am I," his partner agreed, his voice emotionless, and they would speak no more that night.

But outside, unnoticed by either of them, a tall and slender figure clothed all in black stood as still as a statue upon the corner of the seventieth story. With his keen hearing, he had heard every single word. He paused a moment or two longer at his perch, listening carefully as their line of conversation changed course, until he was absolutely certain that their words no longer held any interest for him; then and only then did he leap from where he stood, vanishing into the pitch black dark of the nighttime hour with only a swishing of his long-trained overcoat and a careful hand steadying the wide brim of his hat.


	14. The One With the Glass of Water

In the dead of night at Brawlers Mansion, the only real sound was the howling of the wind outside. The next midsummer thunderstorm coming their way had blown up in the hours just after nightfall, and the telltale increase in humidity was the only foreshadowing that a very impressive storm was on the horizon. But it wasn't yet upon them—which was why it was so unusual that the far-off clap of thunder that echoed off the cliffs rimming the lake jolted Wolf O'Donnell from his slumber.

Sitting bolt-upright in his bed with the sheets tangled around his legs, Wolf clutched at his chest with one hand, marveling at the swift pace of his heartbeat. What had startled him so much? Had he been dreaming? He didn't let go until he realized that his claws had come to bear, and that they were digging into his flesh. Instead of falling back upon his haphazardly-stacked pillows, he glanced at the digital clock to the right of his stolen television. It was 3:54 in the morning.

With an irritated groan, Wolf collapsed back and flung the sheets onto the floor, letting his body cool, glaring up at the darkened ceiling. Outside, thunder rumbled ominously as the storm rolled closer to the cove upon which their lakeside mansion was built.

It took him a full ten minutes to place the source of his unbelievable discomfort: his mouth was dry, his throat completely parched. He imagined this was what high noon in Death Valley felt like.

"I'll never get any damn sleep at this rate," the lupine growled to himself, and sitting up again he swung his legs over the side of the bed and braced his feet upon the carpet, rising jerkily into a standing position and yawning heavily as he pulled a shirt on over his bare chest. A stroke of silent lightning illuminated his otherwise-dark bedroom, slanting off the brass door handle, and placing his hand upon the knob he let himself into the second floor hallway.

It was silent as a morgue on the second floor, a rarity. True, the residents of Brawlers Mansion kept very strange hours—most of them slept very little, unwilling to waste the daylight hours in the company of friends—but Wolf couldn't remember ever wandering through the halls of their home and not hearing a single voice. It was eerie and unnatural; it gave him the sense that somewhere, something was very wrong. Keeping his ears open and wishing for all the world that he had a gun, Wolf padded with a silent predator's grace to the staircase and descended to the first floor.

The television was on, but tuned to a channel that their second-rate cable receiver could not pick up so the picture was fuzzy; Wolf punched the power switch on his way into the kitchen, and the screen went black. With his back to the sitting room, Wolf did not see the reflection of a black-clothed figure in the TV screen in the split second that it was visible.

The lupine had a glass in his hand and was halfway to the refrigerator when he heard a muffled thud from down the hall. He took another step toward his destination but stopped in his tracks when he heard a second thud, this one louder than the first. Curiosity got the better of him when the thumping sounds took up a kind of disjointed rhythm, and abandoning his glass to the kitchen counter he followed his ears past the now-empty room that had, until very recently, belonged to Ike, past both Marth's and Link's silent bedrooms, and halted about a foot away from the closed door that led to Vick's room.

Hadn't the sound come from this direction? Wolf turned an about-face, longing for a drink, thinking he must have been imagining things, when suddenly he heard a sound that he could never mistake.

For years during the conflicts in the Lylat System, Wolf's second-in-command and best wingman had been a younger reptilian by the name of Leon Powalski. Leon was a diagnosed sociopath whose origins were largely unknown, an agent of Andross who spoke very little and had very warped tastes. Wolf counted on Leon implicitly to cover his flanks during a firefight and had never known his favored companion to fail a reconnaissance mission (owing largely to the fact that Leon was a chameleon, which made him nearly impossible to trace when he was undercover), but Leon had a rather disturbing side-job that forced Wolf to keep him at arm's length; Leon was a professional torturer, and was often putting his deadly skills to work on unfortunate Loyalists who fell into Separatist custody. It was because of Leon's secret profession, and his inherently sadistic tastes, that Wolf was able to place the sound coming from the other side of the door.

The sound of a whip cracking against someone's skin.

Every nerve in Wolf's body was suddenly standing on end, his vision tinted red with rage, and lurching forward he placed his hand upon the handle. What was going on? Was Vick alright? Was she in danger?

Thankfully other sounds wafted from behind the closed door then, which was fortunate, because when he heard them Wolf suddenly came to understand. The second sound was a slightly-muffled moan—a woman's voice in the throes of passion-, and the third sound was a man's low, sadistic chuckle in reply.

Wolf snatched his hand back from the door as though he had just touched a blistering stovetop.

The whip cracked again. Vick's moan became a squeal. It took every ounce of Wolf's militaristic discipline not to barge in, knowing that he would only embarrass himself, make Vick angry, and undoubtedly get the shit kicked out of him by Wesker. And that had already happened once, barely twelve hours ago; it was not an experience he was keen on repeating.

Wesker spoke then, a low and forbidding sound, too deep for Wolf to catch the individual words, but Vick's moan was a fervent reply and the lupine was nothing but grateful that he hadn't heard.

_Why the fuck am I still standing out here listening to this?!_ Wolf wondered silently, but still he remained rooted to the spot, horror and damnable curiosity keeping him there.

Only when he heard Wesker grunt from effort did Wolf turn tail and flee back to the kitchen, snatching his glass from the counter as though it were a life preserver. The unpleasant dryness in his mouth intensified, and he threw open the freezer—

-The ice trays were all empty.

"Son of a bitch," Wolf growled through his teeth, nearly cracking the glass with the pressure of his grip. He considered briefly just filling his cup with room-temperature tap water and retreating to his room, but Vick's loudest and most passionate cry yet was suddenly filling his ears and it seemed a brilliant idea then to flee downstairs to raid the ice chest. So Wolf dashed out of the kitchen and pounded downstairs, not really caring who he awoke in the process.

An almost imperceptible shadow whipped around the corner, past the downstairs television and down the hall to Meta Knight's and Lucario's rooms, to be lost in even deeper shadows in the same moment Wolf reached the landing of the sublevel. It was much cooler down here, and Wolf gratefully leaned his almost-feverish forehead against the wall, his breathing slowing, the sounds of Wesker and Vick's twisted excursions gradually drifting out of his mind. After taking half a minute or so to compose himself Wolf shoved away from the wall and padded through the basement living room, toward the two doors on the opposite side.

Next to Sonic's bedroom was a small storage room, concrete walls and floors and an unfinished ceiling with exposed beams supporting the ground floor. There were only a few things in storage, as none of them were planning on staying longer than the summer: just a deep freezer where they kept frozen foods that wouldn't fit in the kitchen freezer and two ice chests, one for their alcoholic beverage surplus and the other for ice only. Wolf tugged on the ice chest closest to him, irritated all over again when it clanked in protest. It was locked with a padlock, and of course he had no worldly idea where the key could be.

"This is why people sleep at four in the morning," Wolf growled under his breath, glaring at the padlock as though it had caused him a personal offense. "Because nothing ever goes well at this hour."

Wolf spied a ring of keys sitting on top of the freezer and retrieved it, certain one of the keys on the ring would release the padlock. He tried the first two with no success, but the third slid easily into the padlock and he turned it hurriedly, anticipating the ice almost desperately—

_Chik._

Wolf withdrew his hand and cursed explicitly beneath his breath, glaring at the half-a-key that remained in his grasp. The other half had snapped off in the padlock.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he snarled, hurling the twisted remains of the key into the corner of the storage room, ignoring the dull _ping_ sound as it ricocheted off the concrete wall and vanished beneath the shelves. Stalking into the sublevel sitting room and stomping upstairs he added to himself, "This calls for a little more finesse."

With the stealth only a veteran mercenary could boast he let himself into Falco's room, smirking at the state he found the slumbering avian in. Falco was snoozing heavily upon his back, feathers all in comical disarray, beak hanging open shamelessly and a dribble of drool sliming one side of his beak. Like a total fool, he had left both of his prized laser pistols out in plain sight—almost in a place of honor upon his nightstand, beneath the shade of a small lamp. Wolf swiped one soundlessly and snuck back out, dashing back into the basement and confronting the offending ice chest.

"Time for your comeuppance, you unaccommodating bitch," growled Wolf wickedly, and he launched a single energy bullet that effectively seared the padlock in two. The halves clattered to the ground and he wrenched the ice chest open, now almost giddy with anticipation.

He scooped out perhaps twice the amount of ice he would normally use for a glass of water, so thrilled was he to finally have it, and traipsed victoriously out of the storage room clutching his glass with both hands and cackling wildly in an undertone. So involved was he in enjoying his recent success that he almost didn't hear the voice murmuring excitedly from behind the door adjacent to the storage room.

Almost.

One ear twitched hyperactively toward the door, giving Wolf pause; the lupine ducked into a crouch, hackles rising defensively, until he realized that he was not in any immediate danger and that he recognized the voice. Sonic's? He padded nearer to the door, wincing with every perfectly-balanced step, remembering suddenly the price he had very recently paid for eavesdropping and hoping that this bout of curiosity would not drive him to cut off his own ears. He tentatively pressed his ear to the door.

At first there was no sound whatsoever, only his own pulse thudding gently in his ears and Meta Knight lightly snoring down the hall. Just as Wolf was about to turn away and chalk the voice up to his own maddening dehydration, Sonic's dreamy voice spoke again from the other side of the door.

"Mmm… Shadow…."

Wolf arched one eyebrow curiously, puzzled. Was Sonic dreaming about the club where Vick tended bar and Lucario played DJ? Why would he? Since his arrival Sonic had only haunted the place once, and hadn't seemed particularly interested in it—

"I've missed you."

The lupine nearly swallowed his tongue. _Missed who?!_

It was frighteningly quiet for almost a full minute longer, until Sonic's unconscious monologue struck up again. "No… I swear… it isn't like that. Blaze is… like… my sister. You know it's always been you…."

Deciding it was worth the risk to investigate, Wolf cracked the door open and poked his head inside.

Thankfully, this time, there wasn't a sexually morbid scene awaiting Wolf for his damnable curiosity. The room was dark—no windows—and remembering that Sonic had a bad habit of leaving several dozen running shoes strewn haphazardly about Wolf didn't admit himself. Sonic was curled up on his side, clearly sleeping, though his face was in obvious turmoil. In one hand he even clutched a handful of the sheets.

Then Sonic muttered his most heartfelt sentence yet, laden with obvious adoration. "I can't wait to see you again."

Wolf quickly weighed the pros and cons of listening in further, but decided quickly that he was pressing his luck and would surely soon hear something that scarred him for life. Battling back his curiosity he stepped backward, pulling the door closed as he went.

He was only two feet from the staircase that would deliver him safely to the ground floor when he heard another voice, this one coming from down the hallway, past Meta Knight's accommodations: _You worry too much. It isn't THAT big._

Yet another voice that Wolf recognized well, made easier to place by virtue of the way its timbre was like relaxing upon a plush cushion at the end of the day—a psychic voice. Mewtwo? This time Wolf actually set his glass down upon the top of the television to investigate, wondering why on earth Mewtwo was still awake at this hour and who he could be talking to.

In retrospect, it should have been all-too-obvious—later, Wolf would hate himself for it.

_That's easy for you to say,_ Lucario was panting as Wolf neared the door—he sounded as though he was in pain. _I've never… ahh…._

_Shh, _Mewtwo ordered, his voice soft but not entirely disarming, and there issued the sound of someone shifting upon the protesting box springs of a mattress. _I'll take care of you… Just relax._

Again, in retrospect, Wolf felt incredibly foolish for taking as long as he did to catch up to just what he was listening to; only when the mattress springs began squeaking in a slow but steady rhythm did he realize just what he had stumbled upon, and when he did Wolf turned tail and fled, barely pausing to retrieve his glass.

On the ground floor, Wolf collapsed onto the couch and dropped his head into his hands. His palms were clammy when he murmured into his fingers, "So this is what goes on when I'm asleep…. Tomorrow I'm investing in some maximum strength sleeping pills. I hope I never wake up."

It was many minutes before Wolf could get up the courage to return to the kitchen and fill his glass with water. Thankfully, the sounds of highly-erotic sex coming from behind Vick's door had ceased at that point; Wolf took a small measure of smug pleasure at the thought that Wesker, despite all of his power, didn't seem to last long in the bedroom.

The water sloshing over the ice cubes as it was poured into the glass was like music to Wolf's ears. He was practically drooling as he lifted the glass to his muzzle; the first droplets were barely millimeters from his tongue when the phone rang. The pealing sound startled him so much that he lost his grip on the glass; it slipped from his hand and hit the tiled kitchen floor, shattering in a spray of water and sending shards of ice and glass everywhere.

The string of curse words that exploded none-too-quietly from Wolf's mouth almost compelled him to wash his own mouth out with soap. He was kneeling down in the mess with a ratty old towel in one hand, just starting to clean up after himself, when a curious thought occurred to him—the phone had barely pealed half a ring before someone had answered it.

Wolf glanced over his shoulder at the digital numbers shining on the microwave—4:37. Who was so anxiously awaiting a phone call at this hour? More importantly, who the hell was calling?

He struggled within himself for the span of about twenty seconds, silently reminding himself of all the horrific things he had heard already, then decided that he would be worse off not putting his curiosities to rest. Nothing kept a man up at night quite like the unknown. So he hastily cleaned up the floor, mopping up the water with the towel and sweeping up the ice and glass shards with the hand broom and dustpan from beneath the sink; satisfied, Wolf shook the dustpan out over the garbage can and hopped up onto the kitchen counter, snatching the phone from its cradle and clicking it on, praying that he wasn't discovered.

"—a little insulted that you weren't taking me seriously. I said I would call, and here I am. Why the surprise?"

There came the sound of stammering, and then the hesitant response. "I don't understand why the hell you're calling me at all. What's the big idea?"

Wolf's mind boggled. The first voice was undeniably familiar, but perhaps owing to all of the oddities he had overheard throughout the course of the evening he couldn't immediately place it; the second voice undoubtedly belonged to Fox McCloud.

A low chuckle was the first response; the sound was so familiar that Wolf wanted to slap himself for his inability to place it. "When you walked in to interview at the flight academy today, I knew for sure—you needed a break from the mundane, as it were. That being said, I think I'm the man to do that for you."

Now Fox sounded angry. "You're a sadistic fucking freak is what you are. I know what you do to people. I've read the reports, seen the pictures—"

"You aren't the slightest bit curious?"

"…What?! NO! Why would that interest me-?!"

"Like I said, I could tell just by looking at you that you need a break from the mundane. I'd be more than happy to show you what I mean—"

"Shut the fuck up, you psychopath. I said I'm not interested."

"I beg to differ." Another derisive chuckle followed this dry statement.

"What's that supposed to mean?!" Fox was now purely on the defensive, every syllable unwilling, the tone of his voice pitched high in a near-panic.

"It means that if you really weren't interested, you would have hung up the instant you heard my voice… or you wouldn't have answered at all."

Fox cursed the voice on the other end of the line and slammed the phone down with enough force to make Wolf recoil. He replaced the receiver upon its cradle confusedly, but the moment the phone was no longer in his hand his eyes blazed with rage and his hands balled into fists. His claws, fully extended, dug into his palms.

So someone was harassing Fox—someone Fox had been in contact with at his job interview earlier that same day. Not only that, but Fox, despite his protests, was obviously intrigued by some part of the proposition. Wolf strongly considered marching straight up to the vulpine's bedroom and demanding an explanation—they were currently sleeping together, after all—but he booted that idea almost immediately. Wolf was not a man of rash action, and never made snap decisions. Every move he made was always carefully planned, not a single thing left to chance. Surely he could get to the bottom of this unexpected turn of events simply by keeping his eyes and his ears open? It was a suspicious situation, to be sure, but there was no need to blow up over it…yet.

So far, the thing that still topped his to-do list was to get a goddamned glass of water.

Wolf had the presence of mind to choose a plastic cup from the cupboard this time, and even added a snap-on lid with a kiddy straw after a moment's deliberation. No one was awake to see the childlike addition to his glass of choice, and he was about to die of dehydration anyway, so what the hell did it matter? He made the journey back down to the ice chest despite the fact that his tongue was swollen and dry by now—the memory of the way the water sounded cascading over the ice cubes was still fresh in his ear, and just the thought of it made him even thirstier—and took a measure of smug satisfaction to see the two halves of the padlock still lying on the ground. He dashed back upstairs with his child-proof cup, complete with ice, giddy at the prospect of at last getting a drink after forty-five minutes of hell—

-To find someone standing motionless in the center of the living room when he again reached the ground floor.

The lupine skidded to a halt and even dropped his cup in alarm, but then barked out a laugh in the next instant when it bounced playfully along the carpet, ice rattling against the lid but finding no release. He then returned his attention to the situation at hand. His audience had yet to move a single muscle; at second glance, Wolf recognized Link standing in a pair of boxers and a shirt that was several sizes too large for him.

"Dude, I would apologize for waking you up, but at this point I can honestly say that I don't give a shit," Wolf snickered, moving forward to retrieve his cup. "You wouldn't even believe the hell I've been through…."

He straightened, waiting for the Hylian to say something, and came up puzzled when Link continued to stand awkwardly in the middle of the room without speaking. Many seconds passed between them without any interaction whatsoever.

"I am so not in the mood for bullshit," growled the lupine. "What's your malfunction?"

Link's shoulders twitched upward, and then fell limply in a kind of exaggerated shrugging motion, then he sighed and murmured drowsily, "Yeah… I'm the Hero of Time."

Wolf scoffed. "Yeah, brilliant, genius. I don't need to be reminded. I've been living with you for weeks. I know who you are by now. Could you be more self involved?"

No longer interested in Link's strange behavior, Wolf brushed past him and into the kitchen, immediately prying the lid off his child safe cup and turning the tap on. He had just fixed the lid back onto his cup and had positioned the straw between his teeth to take his first sip when Link wound his arms around Wolf's waist from behind and nuzzled his head into the lupine's back.

The cup flew out of Wolf's hands and into the otherwise-empty sink at this; he kicked off the counter in front of him and threw his weight back, overbalancing them both and ramming Link back hard against the refrigerator. Link's arms dropped back to his sides at once as he slid harmlessly down the surface of the fridge and collapsed into a kind of awkward sitting position on the linoleum; Wolf spun to face him, hackles raised, claws glinting maniacally in the moonlight streaming in from the window.

"You're gonna lose a valuable body part if you pull another stunt like that, you queer!" snarled the lupine, but the insult was lost in the next moment as he took a closer look at Link.

The Hylian was, in fact, fast asleep on the floor—and had been since before Wolf had encountered him in the living room. This was apparent in the way Link's jaw hung slack, the steadiness of his breathing, the limp nature of his limbs; Wolf knelt down in front of him, curiously tilting his head from side to side and even trying to pry Link's eyes open. All of these efforts were in vain—even as Wolf tried to shake Link awake, the Hylian let loose with a very loud snore that left no question as to whether or not he was conscious.

"I'm starting to think I'm the most normal one in the whole damn bunch," marveled Wolf, scratching his head and considering how best to proceed. "I should just leave your ass here since you tried to feel me up in your sleep, but since I'm such a damn nice guy…."

Wolf stooped down and heaved Link over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, trying to ignore the fact that the slumbering Hylian was drooling on his shoulder blade as he carried him down the hall to his room. The door was wide open; all of Link's training gear was strewn carelessly about the floor, and several of his personal effects had been moved into very strange places. It even seemed that Link had cleaved his bedside lamp in two with a stroke of the Master Sword.

"When you sleep, you sleep hard," Wolf observed, shaking his head and laughing helplessly at the scene, and he deposited Link none-too-gently upon his bed, taking great care to close the door behind him as he left.

He found his childproof cup lying overturned in the sink precisely where he had left it when he returned to the kitchen, but this time didn't attempt to drink from it right away. Instead he clutched it very protectively in both hands and headed straight upstairs, making a beeline for his bedroom. He wasn't foolish enough to believe there wasn't another ridiculous encounter was ready and waiting to befall him if he lingered in one place for too long. Once there he shut the door behind him and launched himself into bed, burrowing under the covers with childlike enthusiasm, and clamped his teeth down upon the straw victoriously.

In the hallway, just outside his own bedroom door, a floorboard creaked ominously as though someone were standing on it. The sound was eerie enough to raise the fur on the back of Wolf's neck, and every muscle in his body froze as he listened.

Wolf heard only the slightly accelerated tempo of his own heart for what seemed like an eternity. There issued no other sound from the other side of the door.

And despite the fact that he had endured all of the evening's pains in the pursuit of curiosity, Wolf couldn't bring himself to resist the allure of the creaking floorboard. He flung the covers off himself as quietly as he could manage and begrudgingly laid his cup aside on the nightstand, then snuck toward the door, laid his hand upon the handle, and peered into the hallway.

In time to catch a glimpse of someone he had never seen before, dressed in black from head to toe, turn the corner and whisk upstairs without so much as the sound of a footstep to mark his passing. Wolf knew it wasn't Wesker he saw for many reasons: this man was taller, leaner, paler, and wore a wide-brimmed hat and white gloves like a surgeon might. The persona, also, was perhaps most notable: sinister in a way that reminded Wolf of Wesker, but in a way that was far less awe-inspiring and much more…eerie.

Against his better judgment, Wolf dashed after the man he had seen.

He took the stairs two at a time, wishing for all the world that he had had the presence of mind to bring the laser pistol he had stolen from Falco. How could he have known that some stranger would be stupid enough to sneak into Brawlers Mansion, of all places, uninvited and in the dead of night? It was like asking for a beating. Weaponless or not, Wolf was certainly capable of taking care of this threat himself. He reached the third floor landing in three seconds flat.

No one in the hallway. He dashed ahead, whipping his head in each direction.

No one to the right. No one to the left. Where had the man in the black hat gone?

Wolf shook his head vigorously to clear it. Was it possible that he was that severely dehydrated? After a moment, though, he was in motion again, this time seizing the belt in the ceiling and pulling down the trap-ladder that led to the roof where the hot tub was. No—he was Wolf O'Donnell, scourge of the Lylat System. He was not prone to hallucinations and was known for trusting his instincts to the point of near-foolishness. He had seen someone.

He scrambled up the trap-ladder with surprisingly agility for his stocky build, and was rewarded for his faith in his intuition—the man in the black hat was poised at the edge of the mansion, his supple black boots at the point where the eaves met the gutter.

"Hey!" shouted Wolf on impulse. "Stop! Who the hell are you?!"

The man's face, starkly pale in the light of the moon, turned in his direction. His eyes, a flat and emotionless black, flashed midnight flames into Wolf's soul. Without a single word in response he leapt from the roof.

Wolf sprinted as fast as his legs would carry him and leapt after him without even a moment's hesitation; he would be damned if he failed to bring an intruder in their house to justice, and he had never been afraid of heights anyway. The wind had kicked up into brutal gusts in the hours since the moon had begun its wane, and it buffeted Wolf every which way as he fell; he tucked himself into a roll as he approached the ground and came up running almost immediately. His quarry hadn't bothered to take similar precautions, opting instead to simply bend his knees as his boots met the ground. Wolf knew very few people who could actually pull that off without breaking a leg in the process; he wasn't sure just who he was dealing with, but he knew that if the encounter came to blows he would be in way over his head.

Just like he had been fighting Wesker. The thought curled Wolf's lip upward with its unpleasant memory but wasn't enough to stop his pursuit.

The man in the black hat fled with surprising speed but did not make any threatening movements against Wolf, skirting through the yard like a breath of wind and following the shore's edge westward up the lake. Though he was at a loss to keep up with his quarry using sheer speed alone Wolf followed at his quickest pace, relying on his superior stamina to do the job. Even running flat-out Wolf should have been easily outpaced, but the man in the black hat was neither drawing closer nor further away; the lupine had the distinct feeling that he was being toyed with.

"What are you running from?" he called, hoping his voice carried despite the wind. "Afraid you wouldn't last in a fight against me?"

If he had been hoping that his attempts at goading his quarry into a battle through the use of intimidation would prove successful, he was disappointed; instead of slowing or stopping, the man with the black hat leapt nimbly into the nearest tree and skipped with amazing ease from branch to branch, leaving Wolf to follow on the ground below.

Wolf ignored the ache settling into his leg muscles and pressed on ahead, wishing he hadn't broken his scouter monitoring Wesker's capabilities so that he could put it to use now. He knew it wouldn't be much longer before he was forced to give up the chase.

"Stop, you bastard!" he growled. "Get down here and fight me like a man!"

Overhead, the man with the black hat stopped on the quivering boughs of a beech tree and turned back to face him. Wolf skidded to a halt, grateful for the reprieve. Their eyes met despite the darkness and the distance.

A sudden gust of wind whisked the hat off the pale man's head; it danced upon the breeze for a moment before coming into contact with Wolf's shins. The mercenary commander stooped instinctively to retrieve it.

When he straightened, hat in hand, the pale-faced man was gone.

* * *

><p>It seemed a miles-long trek back to Brawlers Mansion, though in reality Wolf had only kept pace for about three-quarters of a mile. By the time he reached his destination, the easternmost edge of the horizon was a distinctly-lighter gray shade, signifying the onset of pre-dawn. His eyes ached with exhaustion, and his tongue felt several sizes too big for his mouth. He barely had the presence of mind to hang the pale-faced man's wide-brimmed black hat on the inside doorknob as he pulled the door shut behind him.<p>

Wolf sleepily glanced all around for his cup, which had fallen out of his grasp when he had crashed to the floor. He was so tired that almost a full five minutes had elapsed before he at last located the cup—it had rolled along the carpet under his bed and was now propped against the wall, as far under the bed as it could possibly go. Wolf did not find this at all surprising.

He belly-flopped his way under the bed, groping for his cup deliriously until his fingers brushed against the plastic, and almost fell asleep right where he lay. He most certainly would have, were it not for the fire raging in his mouth. Had it always been this impossible just to get a drink of water?

Despite being horrendously uncomfortable crammed under his own bed, Wolf knew that if he attempted to crawl back into bed some other unimaginable disaster would befall him before he got his drink. So in favor of seeking comfort, he sought relief from the now-unbearable fire.

Wolf clamped his lips loosely around the straw and drank like it was his dying wish. The cup was empty in barely two seconds.

Momentarily satiated by the only-slightly uncomfortable sloshy feeling in his stomach, Wolf crawled out from beneath his bed, hoisted himself back up onto his mattress, and slept.

* * *

><p>He had been sleeping soundly for perhaps half an hour when some still-functioning crevice of his mind alerted him that something was very, very wrong.<p>

Wolf grudgingly clambered out of the clutches of sleep, his brain fuzzy with exhaustion, and used his keen ears to search his surroundings instead of opening his eyes—if he opened them now, surely he would wake up all the way, and that was the last thing he wanted after such a hellish evening. He could hear his own breath as he inhaled and exhaled steadily, the relaxed beat of his heart, a mourning dove singing her song on the low-hanging eaves of the roof just outside his window, and—what was that? Light snoring? But he was awake, wasn't he, and certainly not snoring-?

With a growl of protest, Wolf turned his head and dragged his eyelids open.

He came face to face with a heavily snoozing Link. Link, drooling on Wolf's pillow, with his face barely an inch from the lupine's, with one arm flung around Wolf's waist.

Wolf's scream was enough to wake the entire household, their neighbors on either side, and probably several residents that lived on the other side of the lake.

"DAMMIT! YOU FUCKING QUEER! I AM NOT YOUR GODDAMNED CUDDLE BUDDY! GET THE HELL OUT OF MY ROOM! WHERE'S MY GUN?!"

Marth was the first to pound upstairs to investigate, and rounded the corner into the second floor hallway just in time to see Link bolt past as though he were running for his life. The exiled prince threw one arm out behind him to give those following him pause—Vick, Lucario, Fox, and Kirby all halted suddenly on the stairs—and tiptoed the rest of the way until he could poke his head into Wolf's room.

The lupine was on his feet in the center of the bedroom, bedcovers a tangle around his feet, hands clenched into trembling fists at his sides and teeth gritted so tightly together that his bottom lip was cut and bleeding. Marth almost backed out for fear the mercenary commander would throttle him.

"Er… everything alright?" asked Marth in a timid voice.

Wolf seized the collar of Marth's shirt and slammed him back against the wall, effectively knocking the air from Marth's lungs. Marth was momentarily stunned by Wolf's brute strength, and did his best not to struggle to defend himself—somehow he knew that this bout of rage had nothing to do with him. Wolf glared at him, looking quite deranged.

"I am going to take a shower," panted the lupine in between labored breaths. "If anyone so much as comes within a five foot radius of the shower area, I will autograph their spleen for them. Got it?"

Marth nodded jerkily, his eyes rather wide. Wolf released him almost immediately and stalked out the door, his infuriated footsteps echoing loudly down the hallway; as an afterthought, Marth called out to him. "Hey! Wait just one second!"

The exiled prince shoved past his four startled comrades as he sprinted off down the stairs to the ground floor. The item he sought was sitting on a coaster upon the chest of drawers where he kept his clothes; he seized it immediately and dashed right back out, catching up with Wolf just before the lupine entered the community shower room on the second floor.

He pressed the bar of soap into Wolf's hand before clapping the mercenary commander heartily on the shoulder. In response to Wolf's no-nonsense glare Marth said only, "Trust me—you'll feel better."

Wolf rolled his eyes and slammed the door in Marth's face. Despite the lupine's surly attitude, Marth walked away with a smile.

The majority of the mansion's residents were gathered around the kitchen table when Wolf padded in, wearing only a towel wrapped tightly around his waist. His fur was clumped almost comically in damp patches and he shook like a shaggy dog as he fished a long-necked beer bottle out of the fridge. Instead of exiting right away, as he had intended to, the lupine approached them but stopped with a great deal of distance between himself and them. His eyes swept the table wrathfully; they braced themselves for the inevitable explosion.

"I'm gonna talk," he snarled, taking a swig from the bottle; over his shoulder Link noted the time—7:03 a.m. "You're gonna listen. Then I'm gonna sleep all day. The door will be locked. A gun will be under my pillow. You have been warned."

He glanced first at Vick, who had noticeably dark circles under her eyes. "You might be the kinkiest chick I've ever met, and it's kinda hot, but I'd be careful if I were you."

To Falco: "You should really consider keeping your firearms under lock and key. I could've stolen them in my sleep."

To Sonic: "I don't know what the hell you're into, but you should consider visiting a sleep clinic. What's next? Gonna tell me where the gold is buried?"

To Lucario and Mewtwo, who were sitting very close to one another: "Just how big are we talking here? Should I invest in a video camera and try to market something low budget?"

To Fox: "Watch your back and think carefully. My ears work great. If you so much as breathe a single word that I don't like, I'll rip you in half."

To Link, who cowered away and even threw his arms up over his head to protect himself: "If you ever sleep-hug me again, I'll tear off your arms and cram them down your throat. If you ever drool on me again, I'll strangle you with your own tongue. And if you ever crawl in my bed and try to spoon me again… well, I'll see to it that you're sexually useless for the rest of your life, capiche?"

And finally, to Marth, who was working hard to suppress a laugh: "Thanks for the soap."

Then the lupine turned and stomped off without another word. The others were wise enough to hold their tongues until they heard, very clearly, Wolf's bedroom door slam shut.

Wolf was too tired to notice, as he collapsed into his bed, that the wide-brimmed black hat was gone.


	15. The One Where They Chase Tornadoes

Vick stormed out of the mansion halfway through breakfast the next morning in a foul temper, stomping down the back porch steps and stalking across the backyard with her eyes on the lake. With each step she cursed herself more and more violently for her slip of self control – what had she been thinking, having sex with Wesker in a house full of crude men who had no idea how to respect someone's privacy? Of course she had been overheard, and of course now she was the house laughingstock – she hadn't even been able to make it around her French toast without incurring a handful of offhanded, not-so-subtle jokes about her sexual preferences. Now she fully intended to walk until she got tired enough to nap under the shade of one of the many trees, or until she was lost.

She was rounding the lake on the far east side and picking her way through the closely-grown trunks of trees, breathing in the scent of the undergrowth and carefully measuring each step, when she heard a voice; the words were impossible to distinguish, but the voice was undeniably masculine. She cocked one ear in the direction of the voice and asked tentatively, "Is someone there?"

Lance turned back, very alert, one hand upon a Poke Ball at his belt to summon a powerful beast to his aid if necessary. There was a rustling in the trees to the east, the sound of someone huffing with exertion, and then Vick Ralis shoved through the low-hanging branches and into the meadow. Lance relaxed at once. "Oh. Hello there."

"Oh, hey." Vick collapsed upon a moss-covered log, brushing the hair away from her face. "I thought I heard voices… were you talking to yourself?"

Lance smiled kindly. "Often I talk to my Pokemon. They are far better listeners than most people I know."

He didn't realize until he had finished speaking that what he had said could easily be considered rude; fortunately, Vick laughed out loud. "That must be nice. They don't ridicule, they don't judge, they just listen. Maybe that's not such a bad idea after all."

It was Lance's turn to be suspicious now. "What are you doing all the way out here by yourself?"

"Honestly? I couldn't take one more BDSM joke from that bunch." She rolled her eyes, though she didn't seem at all embarrassed; Lance hoped it didn't show on his face that he had no worldly idea what she was talking about. "I guess Wolf overheard me and Wesker…well, nevermind. I was just sick of their bullshit. I am who I am, you know?"

To this, Lance could readily relate. "I know exactly what you mean."

"So…where's the Pokemon you were talking to?"

Lance beckoned to her and set off, brushing past the boughs of the weeping willow trees and bringing them to the beach. Dragonite was lazing on its back a few yards from the shore, using its wings to keep itself balanced on the surface of the water. Vick kicked off her shoes and socks and waded closer, standing ankle-deep in the lake. "It's huge! What is that, a dragon or something?"

The Dragon Master unclasped his cape and laid it upon the bank, taking a seat upon the fabric. "It's called a Dragonite. It's the final evolution of Dratini."

"Whoa, you just said a bunch of stuff there that sounded like a foreign language, can you dumb it down for me?"

Lance chuckled to himself. "Some Pokemon have the ability to change their form. There exist a variety of ways for them to do this… for example, this Dragonite started its life as a Dratini, and through its experiences with me became a Dragonair, and finally changed into the form you see now." He watched as Vick waded further out into the lake, the gently lapping waves at her knees now. "Dragon-type Pokemon are perhaps the most difficult type to raise; they require constant care, a mature mindset and a strong sense of discipline. Only highly skilled trainers can even attempt to see a Dragon-type through to the final stages of its life."

Vick was now reaching her hand out toward the floating Dragonite. Lance jumped to his feet in concern, shouting, "Be very careful! Dragonite are very proud and don't usually abide the company of anyone besides their masters—"

Vick tossed her silver-blonde hair over her shoulder to glance back at Lance; her hand was resting casually upon Dragonite's exposed neck, and after a moment she began to stroke its neck gently. Lance couldn't keep his mouth from gaping open in shock.

"You were saying?" pressed Vick, looking very smug now.

The Dragon Master shook his head heavily, looking embarrassed. At length he sat back down and motioned for her to continue. "Nothing, it seems. Certain Pokemon bond very closely with their trainers and regard all other humans with disdain at best, sometimes even hostility. Dragonite tend to be quite protective."

Vick wandered back up the shore; Lance scooted over, making a space for her to sit down on his cape. She did so, stretching her legs out, letting them dry in the sun. "You said that some Pokemon change their form? What's that called?"

"Evolution. But not all Pokemon evolve through time or experiences. There are other ways."

"Like what?" Vick's tone was colored with interest; Lance smiled.

Reaching into a small pouch on his belt Lance extracted a small reddish-orange stone; it lay flat on his palm, glittering like flames in the light from the early afternoon sun. "There are certain elemental stones that trigger the evolutionary process in some Pokemon; this Fire Stone is one of them." Lance handed Vick the stone, watching as she rolled it over in her hands in wonder. "Some Pokemon will only evolve during certain times of the day, or during certain seasons… there are even Pokemon who won't alter their forms until they have bonded closely with their trainers. Some of the wisest professors in the field of evolutionary research are still discovering new possibilities in all five regions Pokemon are known to live in."

Vick handed the stone back, her brow furrowed. "Five regions? Mewtwo was telling me about this stuff the other day and he said there were four."

"I'm not surprised that Mewtwo knows of only four," Lance explained. "The fifth region, Unova, was only just discovered in recent months. There is still a great deal we don't know—there may be even more places where Pokemon are plentiful."

"Oh." Vick's eyes had strayed back to the lake, where Dragonite was now diving for long periods of time without resurfacing. When it came up the fourth time she spoke again, sounding almost timid. "Do you think… I could raise Pokemon? I mean… would I be any good at it?"

Lance read the obvious interest in her eyes very well, and the other, deeper emotions before he answered—there was a kind of longing that he found most intriguing. "I don't see why not! You have a lot of the qualities that I personally consider essential to training—enthusiasm, compassion, and determination. You would have a difficult time succeeding around here, though; Pokemon haven't been known to live in the Mushroom Kingdom area."

"Oh," Vick said again, but this time her tone was colored with disappointment. "Bummer. Oh well."

For the rest of his life, Lance would never be able to say just what made him say what he said next. "How about I make you a deal?"

Her stormy eyes flashed in his direction. "A deal?"

"Yes. What if I agreed to take you to Johto sometime, to experience catching and raising Pokemon for yourself?"

"What if I'm no good at it?" asked Vick nervously, her eyes growing wide with trepidation.

"Then we will simply find you another hobby." Lance's eyes shone with kindness; it was very disarming to Vick, who by nature had a difficult time trusting people. "What do you say? Do we have a deal?" He finished by extending one hand toward her, black-velvet-gloved palm up.

Being around shady characters constantly in her line of work, Vick had become very good at reading people. All she saw when she looked into Lance's eyes was sincerity, and decided to take the chance. She slipped her hand into his and was met with a handshake that exuded the perfect amount of pressure to impart support. She couldn't help but crack a smile, and found that she liked him despite the fact that she knew almost nothing about him.

Lance's hand froze around hers for a moment longer than he had anticipated, momentarily struck by the natural beauty beneath her hardened exterior, then Vick pulled her hand away and waded back out to play with Dragonite so he turned away to hide a blush.

* * *

><p>Link found Falco sitting on the low-hanging eaves of the roof, the ones they always seated themselves upon while they watched brawls in the backyard. He had missed lunch – suspicious, because the lanky avian never missed a meal and was known for his insatiable appetite. The Hylian passed Falco a long-necked bottle as he took a seat next to him, and Falco didn't hesitate in popping the cap off and taking an enthusiastic swig.<p>

"What are you doing up here? Kirby made tacos, man." Link finished with a noisy slurp from his own bottle.

"Checking out this updraft, dude, it's getting totally out of control." Falco was staring at the sky with nothing short of wonderment in his eyes, and when he turned to grin appreciatively at his companion it was to find Link staring at him with raised eyebrows.

"The hell is an updraft?" scoffed Link, glancing up at the sky like a man searching for an alien spacecraft.

Falco pointed, and Link followed his finger; now that he looked twice, the clouds on the not-so-distant horizon did seem to be ballooning out of control, just as Falco had said. In a matter of minutes the eerie cloud formation would be blocking out the sun. "See the way those clouds are shaped? It's an updraft. You guys been watching the weather channel? I bet they're getting some action out that way. Maybe we should drive out there and check it out!"

Before Link could ask Falco to repeat what he had said in a language he understood, Sonic zipped out of the house, down the back porch stairs, and halted in the center of the backyard. Link rolled his eyes to the heavens, highly irritated. Sonic had been released from his cast yesterday afternoon, and since then he had been terrorizing the entire household with his obnoxious and unbridled speed. Since Ike was gone, and Blaze was highly disapproving of any acts of unjustifiable violence, they had no choice but to put up with Sonic for now. "Hey! Channel 8 News says there's a supercell blowing within 20 miles of us! We should dash out there and check!"

Meta Knight had just wandered out onto the back porch and Lance and Vick were just crossing the lake on the airborne Dragonite when Link finally asked, "Updraft? Supercell? What does all that mean?"

"Seriously?" Falco snorted through his beak. "Storm terms, man. Supercells cause tornadoes." The avian turned to regard Sonic, who was impatiently tapping his foot in the grass below. "Within 20 miles, huh? Maybe we should go… you up for it, rodent?"

Now it was Sonic's turn to roll his eyes. "You bet I am! You have any equipment?"

"Nah, but it's fine – I'm a spectator, not a meteorologist. I wonder if Fox left his keys before he went to the office, we could take the Camaro…."

Link shook his head roughly from side to side, looking incredulous; as they approached he could see Vick looking intensely interested, and Lance looking mildly nervous. Meta Knight, as usual, looked nonplussed. "Hold on! Are you guys actually talking about chasing a tornado?!"

Sonic sprinted the length of the yard, up the steps, and launched himself into a spin that brought him up to the roof with ease; Link blinked several times, feeling slightly dizzy. "A tornado? Only if there's only one to chase! Supercells usually spawn multiples, which means this could be a pretty eventful day, weather-wise."

"Don't people die doing that?!" Link roared.

By that time, Lance and Vick had joined them; Vick was shaking her head slowly and looking ashamed of him. "You've fought wars and you're afraid of a little twister?"

Link glared at her – or tried to, anyway, because like the rest of the men in Brawlers Mansion he found it difficult to be genuinely angry with her. "'Little'?! Aren't we talking about tornadoes?! You know, the storms that can be miles wide with wind speeds over a hundred miles an hour that fucking kill people?!"

Sonic shrugged negligently, as though these details hardly mattered. "That sounds about right. You coming?"

Link blanched. "Hell no I'm not!"

"Can I tag along?" piped up Vick, and Falco flashed her a smile.

"Sure thing babe."

"Do you believe this horse shit?!" shrieked Link, snapping his head in Meta Knight's direction, but if he was hoping the smallest swordsman would come to his aid he was sadly mistaken.

"Actually, this sounds fascinating," Meta Knight cackled. "A battle of an entirely different sort – a battle against the elements. I am intrigued."

"What about you?" Vick prompted, nudging Lance in the ribs with her elbow. "You coming too?"

Link was relieved to find Lance looking uncomfortable and a little unnerved – the way people should logically act when the topic of conversation was chasing after an unstoppable and potentially lethal force of nature. Just when he was certain that Lance would be the voice of reason, though, the Dragon Master glanced sidelong at Vick and seemed to change his mind to the opposite extreme. "I suppose so."

Though the Hylian desperately wanted to inquire as to Lance's sudden interest in Vick, he had no choice but to file it away for later inquisition. Not only that, but the pressure was suddenly all on him – everyone was staring at him now as though waiting for him to change his mind. He shook his head again. "No way, you guys. You feel free to get yourselves killed in some suicide mission sprinting around like morons after a tornado. I'll watch the whole thing on the news."

"You'll mean you'll watch us looking totally badass on the news," snickered Sonic, and Falco and Vick joined in.

Link was almost literally smoking from the ears. "How do I get off looking like the only idiot here just because I wanna live?"

"Because we're not gonna die, you pansy!" squawked Falco. "People do this all the time! It's perfectly safe!"

"Nothing we do is EVER perfectly safe," drawled Link in reply.

"Okay," sighed Vick with a noncommittal wave of her hand. "Stay here. Find something else to do that's equally productive, like play chess with the little old ladies at the nursing home down the street. That should be right up your alley."

Link's eyes narrowed, and he rose to Vick's snide remark just as she had anticipated. "Oh really?! FINE! I'll go!" And he leapt nimbly off the roof and landed beside her, ruffling her hair playfully with one hand. "You menace."

Vick winked at him but didn't push him any further, having already got what she wanted.

Vick and Falco filled a mini cooler with ice and loaded an assortment of bottled alcoholic beverages into it while Link took Fox's Camaro up the road to fill the tank with gas; in the driveway, Sonic was lightly stretching his newly-healed leg and Meta Knight was flexing his wings gingerly in preparation for the journey. Lance stroked Dragonite's muzzle absentmindedly, images of Vick chasing half-formed through his memory. It wasn't long before Link fishtailed the Camaro around the curve in the road and Falco led the way out of the house, Vick trailing behind him with the cooler tucked under her arm.

Link threw the passenger side door open, listening intently to the radio. The signal was a little fuzzy, but as they gathered around they caught most of the broadcast:

" – _moving northeast at about forty miles per hour. Again, if you're just joining us, we are tracking a supercell just north of Mushroom Kingdom; this storm is producing gusts of wind up to seventy miles per hour and is capable of producing a tornado at any time. Residents of Mute City are advised to take cover immediately. This Tornado Watch will expire at 3:15 pm. Stay tuned for further coverage."_

"Mute City is almost forty five minutes from here," Link pointed out, and despite his earlier protests he seemed disappointed at the prospect of missing the storm.

"Thirty if you let me drive," Falco corrected, tossing a wink his way, and reaching in through the driver's side window he shoved Link across the seat and slid behind the wheel, glancing back at the others. "Travel arrangements?"

Meta Knight seated himself in the backseat behind Link. "I do not think my wings are strong enough to bear me the distance, and even if I believed they were I would not risk it at this point."

"You running the whole way?" Falco called to Sonic, and the hedgehog nodded earnestly.

Link's attention was on Lance. "Can you track the storm from the air?"

Lance nodded. "Dragonite is perfectly capable of handling high wind speeds. As long as we don't draw too close to the storm, we should be safe." He finished by mounting Dragonite's back with the grace of a practiced rider, and turning he offered a hand to Vick; she took it immediately and allowed him to hoist her into position behind him, where she wound her arms around his waist for security. As an afterthought, Falco leaned out the window and tossed her a brand new, state-of-the-art scouter with the Star Fox emblem engraved on the earpiece; Vick clipped it on and lowered the sensor window down over her right eye, reading the data as it scrolled by.

"Keep that channel open," Falco instructed. "We can use it to communicate back and forth."

Sonic peeled out of the driveway so fast that he showered the right side of the Camaro with dust and stray bits of gravel; Dragonite beat its wings and lifted off the ground, and Falco all but crushed the accelerator beneath his boot and tore around the bend in the road with tires squealing.

* * *

><p>Wolf didn't wake up until about three in the afternoon, a mild headache pounding behind his right eye but otherwise rested and feeling much mellower. The memories of his nighttime mishaps were still fresh in his mind, though – one in particular that, he had decided while he was unconscious, he needed to deal with personally. Without bothering to change clothes (he was still in the slightly-stretched white tank top and roomy black basketball shorts he had worn throughout the night) Wolf padded down the hallway, peering suspiciously around the doorframe into Fox's bedroom.<p>

It was tidy and empty, suggesting that the vulpine had left for the office, and his new job, sometime earlier in the day.

Perfect.

The lupine returned to his room and shut and locked the door before sitting down on the edge of his bed and taking up the phone. He then spent a full three minutes in complete silence, staring at the numbered keys, trying to dredge up the phone number of the person he needed to contact from the bowels of his memory. At last, he typed out the digits and held the phone to his ear.

It rang three full rings before the smooth, dark voice addressed him. "Commander O'Donnell. This is a surprise. Do we have a job?"

"A professional job, no. The system has been quiet since the second Lylat War – believe me, if Andross had called because things were stirring up again, you probably would have heard it before me." Wolf ran a hand down his face. "Leon… I need you to do a personal job for me."

Leon Powalski stroked his chin and stared at the phone in his hand, perplexed. Missions were never personal where Wolf was concerned, and never had been. Leon, of all people, would know: he had been Wolf's teammate longer than any of the other mercs who had come and gone on team Star Wolf, and knew the lupine better than anyone else in this galaxy or the next. And he knew that Wolf O'Donnell made it a point never to get personally involved in any situation.

"It splits a man's focus," Wolf had always told Leon. "It detracts from the now."

Was it possible that Wolf had broken his own cardinal rule?

Leon sat up straight, lazily waving his chameleon tail behind him as he considered the implications of such a request. "A personal job, hmm? This is unexpected. Just what is it that you've gotten yourself into?"

The hackles on the back of Wolf's neck rose. "You know I make it a point not to discuss my private life with anyone. Can you do the job or not?"

"That all depends. What's your current location?"

Wolf moved to the window and gazed out, taking note of the massive storm brewing on the horizon but paying it no real heed. "I've taken up temporary residence at a mansion on Emerald Beach, eight miles southeast of Mushroom Kingdom proper. I'll triangulate the exact coordinates to you after the call – if you agree, that is."

Leon laughed his smooth, eerie chuckle – had Wolf not been so familiar with it, it would have made him shudder. "Emerald Beach… The coordinates won't be necessary. Not only am I familiar with the location, I'm not all that far away."

"Don't tell me you had the balls to head back to Corneria City? With the bounty still hanging over us?" Wolf barely resisted the urge to bang his head against the wall.

"A man needs to eat in the offseason," Leon replied in a breathy voice, "and business is always good in Corneria City."

Wolf's fingers tightened a little around the telephone. Most of his colleagues from the Separatist movement found odd jobs throughout the surrounding galaxies when the war wasn't on; it just so happened that Leon, with his sadistic tastes, moonlighted as a professional dominant in Corneria City when jobs were scarce elsewhere. On principle, Wolf never asked his business partners what they were up to in the offseason, but he had once contacted Leon via his private line to address an emergency and interrupted Leon in the middle of a scene. Needless to say, the gruesome details were now scarred into his memory.

"That works out well," Wolf said evasively. "What do you say? I'll pay you in advance – half now, half post-job."

"It's at this point that I must inquire as to the nature of this 'personal job' again."

Wolf growled low in the back of his throat, but Leon had stuck by him for several years and deserved a few details before he gave an answer. "Did you know that Fox and I have been seeing each other in secret?"

"Have you now?" Despite the question, Leon didn't sound all that shocked by the news. "By 'seeing' do you mean 'emotionally involved' or 'physically involved'?"

The mercenary commander's silence spoke volumes. Leon didn't press him for a response – instead, he waited for Wolf to continue. "Last night I caught him on the phone with someone… the voice sounded familiar, but I can't place it. I'm not sure what's going on, but he sounded… unnerved… and intrigued… which is never a good combination. I'm not sure I trust him. I need you to shadow him for a couple of days and let me know if he does something that isn't on the up-and-up."

Leon knew better than to ask for more details. "Understood. I can be in town tonight… I have to contact a few clients and reschedule first."

"Spare me."

"Down boy. Tell me where to meet you."

Wolf didn't want Leon showing up at the mansion for several reasons; for one thing, Leon and Falco had long nursed a rivalry for one another that breached the boundaries of sanity, and if Fox caught wind that Leon was hanging around he would know that something was up. Not to mention that Leon wouldn't be able to resist participating in a fight or two when he saw the competition he would be up against, and when Leon fought people, people almost always wound up dead. Instead he offered Leon the address for The Shadow, knowing that at least some of their group would more than likely be present there later on that night.

Leon ended their conversation with a cryptic "Always a pleasure" and hung up without awaiting a reply; Wolf stared at the phone for a few seconds before replacing it on his nightstand, then settled back in for some more sleep.

* * *

><p>Link didn't participate in the conversation that Falco and Meta Knight had struck up, but occupied himself with staring out the window at the clouds that drew nearer as they drove. He was slowly starting to see just what the fuss was about; as they neared Mute City (which glimmered with the intensity of a five-star casino, despite the fact that it was the middle of the afternoon) the sky took on a startling greenish tint and it got more humid by the second. While Falco was cursing at a stoplight Link rolled down the window and leaned out – and noticed that, instead of the whipping winds he had been expecting to feel so close to the storm, everything was dead still.<p>

Sonic skidded to a halt while they were stopped at the red light and leaned in through the passenger side window. "Any word from Channel 8?"

Meta Knight shoved off the backseat and leaned on the console between the two front seats to punch the power button on the stereo system. It was silent in the Camaro while he toggled through the AM radio stations, and then… nothing. Only static could be heard on the station Channel 8 Weather usually broadcasted on.

"That can't be good," Link mumbled, glancing back up at the sky. Sure enough, the clouds overhead were churning ominously.

"Isn't Channel 8 based out of Mute City?" asked Sonic, his green eyes wide with concern, but no one answered him; they were all staring at the city just a few miles from where they sat, worrying now. The light turned green, and Falco floored the accelerator; Sonic pushed away from the Camaro and chased after them, easily overtaking the car and leading the way ahead.

Falco punched the communication button on the scouter he wore. "Vick, can you hear me? Over."

Looping one arm securely around Lance's waist, Vick freed up one hand and touched the button over her ear; beneath her, Dragonite beat its wings steadily and easily. "Loud and clear, Falco, over."

"You two have a better vantage point, do you see anything good? Over."

Vick brushed the hair out of her face and squinted up at the nearing cloud formation. There was no doubt about it – a classic wall cloud had formed in the short time they had been on the road, and it moved northeast now at a brisk pace, all the while looking as formidable as a fortress. As she watched, the clouds slowly began to swirl. "We've got rotation. Now would probably be a good time to stop if you want to see the show. Over."

"Gotcha. Over and out." Falco cranked the wheel sharply to the left, bringing them off the highway and onto a dirt road that was both curvy and bumpy. Link hastily buckled his seatbelt. "Vick says she can see rotation. Now's as good a time as any for us to hunker down."

Falco eased the Camaro around a few more turns – all the while admiring at every little nuance the car had to offer, and vowing to check into buying one for himself – before pulling off the dirt road and into a clearing that was mostly dead grass. He killed the engine and climbed out of the car; Link and Meta Knight followed suit, and after making a few circuits of the surrounding area Sonic joined them.

Link popped the trunk and hauled the mini cooler out, plunking it down in the grass next to the car and having a seat on the hood. Already feeling overprotective of the Camaro and its sleek forest green paint job, Falco couldn't help but wince. That didn't stop him from accepting the long necked bottle Link passed him, though, and they clinked the bottles together briefly before each taking swigs. Meta Knight didn't drink, preferring to dedicate himself to his training and nothing else, and Sonic was such a fanatic about fitness that he often didn't eat regular meals with them unless the food was healthy, much less drink.

There was a beat of silence, and then Sonic broke the mounting tension by saying, "Twenty bucks it's an F3."

The other three couldn't help but laugh; Falco quaffed half his beer with one gulp before saying, "Double or nothing it's an F4."

Sonic could always be counted on for a bet – he had far too much pride to back down from any sort of challenge. He thrust his white-gloved hand out, and Falco shook it with a snicker. "You're on!"

They settled in to wait, quite relaxed and relatively certain that nothing truly threatening would happen to them during their amateur storm chasing session. Above them, Lance was beginning to form a completely different opinion; nudging Dragonite's flanks gently with the heels of his high boots he brought them to a hover, staring thoughtfully up at the sky. The furrowed set of his brow did not escape Vick's notice. "What's up with you?"

Lance glanced over his shoulder to regard her, his dark blue eyes bright despite the sunless day. "Well, I'm not certain, but… how much do you know about supercell storms?"

"Not really anything," Vick confessed with a laugh, but it died away quickly when she read the concern in Lance's face. "Why?"

Lance kicked Dragonite forward and swooped away from the rotating clouds they had been hovering near; they flew only three-quarters of a mile away from where the Camaro was parked, and Lance pointed one finger at another section of the storm.

"Ah," breathed Vick, her heart thudding very fast against her ribs.

The clouds here were rotating, too.

Belatedly, it seemed, Lance explained, "Supercell storms are capable of producing multiple tornadoes. Do you suppose the others…?"

"No," Vick cut in, shaking her head and looking distinctly unnerved. "There's no way any of them knew that before. Oh my God… we are so fucked." She practically beat at the scouter attached to her ear to activate it, and when Falco acknowledged her she yelled, "Just so you know, we're about to see not one, but a whole fuckload of tornadoes."

The avian was so taken aback by this news that he almost dropped his bottle – almost. Falco valued alcohol more than the average man and had once even managed to have sex without spilling a single drop of Jack and Coke, thank you very much. He clutched the bottle a little tighter as if to reassure himself that it was still there and sat up on the hood of the car, saying, "A fuckload, huh? Just out of curiosity, how many tornadoes are in a fuckload? Ten? Twenty?"

"I'm serious, Falco! Apparently these supercell storms can spit out a ton of them, don't you think we should bail? I have to tend bar in a few hours and I'm not sure I can do it dead."

Falco downed the rest of his first beer and immediately popped the top off his second. "You can't? You're not as talented as I thought you were, woman. Your pulse, or lack thereof, should really have no effect on your performance at work."

"What's up with the sudden vocabulary spike? You one of those intellectual drunks?"

"Watch yourself, blondie, or I'll start lecturing you about things like pensions and investment strategies. I wonder if there's an ad out for an undead bartender… do you think I should start calling all the local newspapers?"

Vick slapped her forehead into the palm of her hand; Lance twisted around to raise one eyebrow at her, wondering how on earth her conversation had taken such an unlikely turn. "Focus, you idiot! Did you hear me when I said _we're literally about to get ass-raped by tornadoes?!"_

By the end of her sentence Vick was almost screaming; Link, Meta Knight, and Sonic all clearly heard her words in her hysteria, and doubled over with laughter. Falco joined in but answered her after only a few seconds' worth of chuckling. "There's a mental image, and yeah, I heard you. But we drove all the way out here to see some action and now I'm determined to see some. And there's still half a case of beer in this mini cooler."

"So now you're willing to land yourself in the hospital because you'd rather sit around and drink?" Vick couldn't quite suppress her smile.

"Wouldn't be the first time. Oh – and watch out for that tornado behind you."

At the very same moment that Falco said this, Lance whipped Dragonite around in a half-circle that was so rough it nearly bucked them both from their perch. Sure enough, the rotating clouds they had just flown over to investigate were beginning to dip from the sky, ever-so-slowly solidifying into the ominous shape of a funnel.

"Time to leave," Lance gritted through his teeth, and using his expert dragon rider's balance he wheeled Dragonite in the opposite direction and urged it forward –

- Or tried to, for the tornado's ripping winds were already reaching a devastating velocity that made travel in the opposing direction nearly impossible as close as they were to the swiftly-forming funnel. Vick wound her arms as tightly as she could around Lance's waist and dared to glance behind them again – the twister had almost touched down, and was already filling her ears with the most horrible sound she had ever heard. There were really no words she could use to describe it – the freight train analogy she had heard so many people use before didn't quite cover it. If death had a theme song, she decided silently, it would be a tornado. Above the din, she could just make out the tornado sirens pealing through every district of not-so-distant Mute City, and prayed that all of the civilians within the city's walls made it to safety in the next five minutes, because that was all the time the storm would need to cover the distance.

"Get us the hell out of here!" Vick shrieked, and though she shouted as loud as she could Lance almost didn't hear her.

"Dragonite!" he bellowed. "Extreme Speed!"

All at once the dragon began to beat its wings at three times its normal speed, but even that put barely any distance between them and the tornado. The howling behind them reached a deafening crescendo as the funnel touched the ground and instantly began decimating everything near it.

While the others watched the spectacle from the hood of the Camaro, Link patched into the emergency broadcast system that was warning the residents of Mute City to take shelter immediately. After a moment or two of intent listening he leaned out the window and called, "Channel 8 is calling it an F3."

Sonic held out his hand. "Pay up, sucker."

Cursing, Falco fished two crumpled fives, a torn ten, and a rolled-up twenty from a pocket of his flight cargos and slapped them into Sonic's hand. "You cocky little shit."

Link, Falco, and Sonic were so busy laughing at the spectacle of Lance and Vick trying to out-fly a tornado that Meta Knight was the only one with the presence of mind to keep an eye on their surroundings. So he was the only one unoccupied enough to notice when a second funnel began to dip from the churning clouds barely a quarter of a mile away from where they sat. He attempted to get their attentions, all the while watching the wispy, ropelike tornado elongate and stretch toward the ground.

"Erm… pardon me," croaked Meta Knight, but his voice cracked halfway through and no one heard him. He reached out and tapped Link on the arm, and the Hylian cocked an ear in his direction but otherwise paid him very little attention.

"What's up Meta?"

The skinny tornado – an F1, Meta Knight assumed – was nearly touching the ground now. He swallowed hard past the lump in his throat and said lamely, "There's a tornado."

Link rolled his eyes without following Meta Knight's gaze across the clearing in the opposite direction. "Yeah, Meta, thanks, we know, what do you think we've been staring at all this time?" Vick's scream was audible even over the roar of the F3 tailing them and the others burst into laughter.

Quite suddenly, the wind switched; Meta Knight didn't have to glance back to know that the second tornado has touched down in startling proximity to them. He tried again. "I don't mean the one in front of you."

"Huh?" asked Link, looking harassed, presumably because he was more interested in watching Vick's and Lance's feeble attempts at escaping a natural disaster.

Falco, too, was irate. "What's he mumbling about?"

Impatient now, Meta Knight unsheathed his serrated golden blade and slashed the right sleeve off the loose-fitting t-shirt Link wore; the wind easily caught the torn fabric and whisked it away. Link's eyes blazed. "What the hell did you do that for?!"

Meta Knight lurched forward, seized the scruff of dirty blonde hair at the back of Link's neck, and forcibly turned the Hylian's head in the desired direction. Link's initial reaction at seeing the second tornado, much closer than he ever would have liked, was to pee his pants – thankfully, he battered the reflex into submission and instead settled for shrieking, "Holy shit!"

"I tried to tell you," snapped Meta Knight scathingly, and sheathing his sword he scrambled into the backseat of the car and buckled his seatbelt.

Link punched Falco so hard in the arm that the avian uttered an undignified squawk, and then backhanded Link across the face in retaliation. Despite the situation, Sonic had to bite his bottom lip to keep himself from laughing. "What the hell?!"

"WE NEED TO _GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!"_ Link bellowed, and with eyes twice their normal size he scooted off the hood of the Camaro and practically dove into the passenger's seat.

Falco very calmly bent down to retrieve the mini cooler.

"ARE YOU _OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND?!"_ shouted Link, his face red with rage and disbelief. "ARE YOU SERIOUSLY RISKING OUR LIVES FOR _A FEW BOTTLES OF BEER?!"_

Falco fixed Link with a withering look as he slung the cooler into the backseat beside Meta Knight; the wind was blowing his feathers every which way. "A few bottles of beer? Dude, this is the Sam Adams summer seasonal."

"I DON'T GIVE A SHIT WHAT IT IS! I DON'T CARE IF IT'S GOT GOLD FLECKS IN IT! _GET YOUR ASS IN THE CAR!"_

Throwing the door open Falco slid into the driver's seat, jamming the key into the ignition and turning – the car didn't start. "Oops. Wrong key."

"_GODDAMMIT FALCO!"_ Link leaned across the center console and tore the key out of the ignition, fumbling with the keys on the ring until he located the right one and stuffed it back in. He turned it so hard and so fast in his hurry to see them safely on their way that a muffled _snap_ followed the action, and the ring of keys fell on the floor.

The key had snapped off in the ignition before the engine had started.

"NOW LOOK WHAT YOU DID!" Falco accused, sparks almost flying from his eyes as he regarded the remaining keys on the ring. "HOW THE FUCK DO YOU EXPECT ME TO GET US OUT OF HERE NOW?!"

"You're a mercenary! Don't you know how to hot wire a car?!"

Given that the second tornado was now filling the rear view mirror with its daunting funnel-shaped cloud, Falco thought the smartest possible response was "No time! EVERYBODY BAIL OUT!"

Link, Meta Knight, and Falco simultaneously threw their doors open and stumbled away from the Camaro, sprinting for the lives as fast as their legs would carry them. Sonic shot them a salute before blasting off like a bullet leaving a gun, kicking up a sizeable cloud of dust behind him as he tore away from them at mach speed.

Inch by inch, Dragonite had succeeded in pulling itself free of the devastating cross breezes that kept it from flying at its full speed, and with a powerful surge of its great wings it lurched far enough away from the F3 tornado to bear its riders to safety. Vick finally managed a glance around; Meta Knight was just unfurling his wings and taking to the sky, and Sonic was about to pass beneath their flight trajectory. "Lance! Bring us down!"

Lance dug his heels into Dragonite's flanks and urged them into a nosedive, wind deafening them as it rushed past at incredible speed; the moment Dragonite reached the ground Vick shoved off its back and stumbled to her feet, throwing out her arms to stop Sonic. The hedgehog skidded to a stop in front of her, flinging dirt everywhere. "What's going on?!"

Vick approached him at a run and Sonic stretched his arms out toward her, seeming to understand what she wanted without asking; when she reached him Sonic slung her up into his arms comfortably, and Vick looped her arms around his neck. Glancing back at Lance she called "Get the others!"

Sonic dashed off without waiting for a reply, and Lance urged Dragonite back into the sky and wheeled about, spotting Link and Falco running for their lives away from the F3. There was no doubt about it – if either of them stumbled, the winds would sweep them off their feet and they would be utterly lost. The Dragon Master flattened himself down on Dragonite's back, making sure he didn't cause the beast any wind resistance – speed was the only thing that mattered now, and he knew he would only get one shot….

Dragonite dipped low to the ground, its claws nearly skimming the earth, and Falco and Link reached their hands up over their heads as the creature neared them –

- With its raking claws Dragonite seized them, one in each of the paws on its forelegs, and Lance straightened on its back and bade his partner to increase its speed and altitude. Lance even managed to stretch out one arm as they passed Meta Knight and snatch him out of the air, settling him into place with one arm and clinging to Dragonite's muscled neck with the other. As they flew, they could just make out the dust that trailed behind Sonic as he put distance between himself and the natural disaster ripping through the countryside.

When at last it was clear that they had escaped with their lives, Falco moaned and buried his face in his hands. "Goddammit… now I owe Fox a Camaro."

* * *

><p>"I don't believe it," breathed Yami. "What are you going to do about the car?"<p>

It was later that night at The Shadow; Falco and Sonic were sitting at a high top table in the northeastern corner of the bar area, recounting their storm chasing story to Yami and Marth. Their two companions had listened rapturously and gasped in all the right places like a good audience, and were now staring at Falco with wide eyes and slightly open mouths. The main lights were out in the establishment and only the frenetically flashing strobes were active, making the silhouettes of people dancing to Lucario's newest beat visible at irregular intervals. As he had done earlier that day, Falco again dropped his head into his hands and heaved a sigh. "I'm just gonna have to scrape together the money to buy him the same make and model he had before… goddammit. I haven't had a steady job since the last war… I can't afford to dip that far into my savings."

Vick breezed by holding a tray with three shots, which she placed in front of Yami, Marth, and Falco; she was clad in her familiar combat boots, vintage shredded jeans and a black t-shirt advertising the band We Came As Romans. "I've got a little money saved up for emergencies… it isn't much, but you're welcome to it."

She slung an arm around Falco's shoulders; he pounded his shot and gazed up at her blearily, wearing an expression that was half smile, half grimace. "Thanks babe, but you need that money more than I do. I'll figure something out."

Marth quaffed his shot and placed the tiny glass back on Vick's tray, saying, "Didn't you once say something about how you had a gig as a model?" He ignored Sonic and Yami's sudden snickers and finished, "Can you get back into that?"

"Probably. I've got connections in Corneria City that work full-time at a branch of the agency I used to model for on Zoness. If there's nothing available there, maybe I could hook up with an agency in Mute City."

Vick briefly squeezed Falco's shoulder before holding out her hand in Yami's direction; the King of Games downed his shot and handed the glass over, and she turned on her heel and half-jogged back behind the bar. Now that he looked around, Falco realized it was unusually busy for a Wednesday; even the dance floor was packed to the point of over-occupancy, but Lucario was honoring the patrons with hit after hit of his finest work.

"Come to think of it," Falco continued, now leaning forward on the table and eyeing Marth with a thoughtful gleam in his eye, "Are you getting bored moping around the house yet?"

Marth started – or tried to, at least, because ever-perceptive Falco was right on the mark with his assessment, as usual. "What? I haven't been moping."

Sonic waved a hand in dismissal of his remark, scoffing. "Sure you haven't. Come on, man – you've been wandering around like a lost puppy since Ike took off."

More to sidestep what could easily become an unpleasant topic of conversation, Marth trained his attention back on Falco and pressed, "Why do you ask?"

"Well, now that I look at you, you do have the ideal body type to do a little modeling yourself. Not the gothic line like I do – you don't have the complexion for it – but you'd be great for the punk line. I could put in a good word…" Falco snapped his eyes upon Yami, who almost flinched away. "You could definitely model goth with me. If we slapped some black eyeliner on you, you could be on a runway tomorrow."

Marth and Yami exchanged an incredulous gaze, but neither of them gave Falco an outright 'no' in reply, which the avian took as a good sign. Sonic took the beat of silence to steer the conversation in another direction, just as another waitress brought them beers.

With The Shadow bursting at the seams with patrons and the hour still barely midnight, Vick was hard pressed to keep up with things behind the bar. One of the more flaky waitresses had called in sick last minute and left them shorthanded for the night, making everyone's job more difficult than usual. Vick snatched a plastic sack from beneath the bar and hastily stuffed a dozen empty liquor bottles into it, shouting a harassed "I'll be right back" over her shoulder at her coworkers before circling the bar and taking the back exit into the alley.

The alley behind The Shadow was narrow and poorly lit; Vick always detested coming out here in the middle of the night, and for good reason. Bullet End, the district in which The Shadow was practically centralized, had a bad reputation as the ideal location for crooks and drug lords, and the crime rate was higher here than any other district in the Mushroom Kingdom. The Shadow shared a dumpster and a recycle bin with a hole-in-the-wall bar on the street to the north and a fast food restaurant next door, meaning that anyone dumping trash (or in Vick's case, glass) had to traverse half the alley first. It was still and dry outside; the storms that had blown through Mute City hadn't reached Bullet End, and the night was breezeless and only mildly humid. Vick moved quickly, her head upturned to view the few stars she could see between the two buildings on either side of the alley.

She had a split second glimpse of a figure crouched on the roof of The Shadow before the silhouette whisked over the side and descended into the alley, landing barely six inches in front of her.

Despite her surprise, Vick didn't scream. It wasn't that she was exceptionally brave (though she was far from a coward), or even that she wasn't absolutely terrified to be cornered by a stranger down a dark alley. It was simply that no sound came out when she opened her mouth. This was for the best, though, for the man standing before her made no aggressive movements whatsoever – actually, he seemed to be waiting for her to collect herself before he spoke at all. Vick swallowed hard past the lump in her throat and willed her knees to bend slightly – she had heard somewhere that locked knees caused fainting spells, and now was not a good time for that.

The man who had confronted her was tall – taller even than Wesker, who stood over six feet – and very slim, dressed in black from head to toe and wearing what appeared to be white surgical gloves. Half of his features were obscured by the wide-brimmed black hat he wore, but she could see even in the faint streetlights the he was abnormally pale and his eyes were lifeless and cunning. When her voice returned she managed to rasp out, "Who are you?"

He regarded her expressionlessly for a moment, his thin lips pressed together in a single severe line, before cocking his head in such a way that Vick leaned around him and glanced further down the alley. She could just barely make out two figures loitering near the dumpster, but through a combination of noise from the street and their low-pitched voices she couldn't hear a word they were saying. Vick snapped her suspicious gaze back upon the man with the hat. "Who are _they?"_

"One of them is known to you," he answered enigmatically, and an icy shiver ran down Vick's spine; the man's voice was feather-light and cold. "And the other will be known to you soon enough."

"That still doesn't tell me who you are," Vick snarled, regaining a certain measure of her composure with every passing moment.

The man in the black hat shrugged. "Now is not the time." And he turned away from her and stalked down the alley toward the two mystery figures, his steps soundless despite the fact that he wore boots on the pavement. Vick hesitated, but only for a second, and then she tiptoed after him, sack of glass bottles forgotten behind her.

Approach completed, the man in the black hat rested back against the wall and blended perfectly into the shadows slanting across the building's eastern face; Vick crouched down beside the dumpster, trying not to breathe too much for fear she would be sick, and peeked around it into the east-west running alley. With a start she recognized Wesker, leaning almost casually against the recycle bin and scowling at another man whose back was currently to Vick. All she could tell of him was that he wore a white jacket, high brown boots, and had a mop of metallic blue hair.

"Is that not the man who defeated your friends?" murmured the black-clad man hiding in the shadows, and Vick shivered again at the eerie timbre of his voice. Terrified she would be overheard, she merely nodded, and hoped he was watching.

"The difference between Albert Wesker and Legato Bluesummers," continued the man who had accosted her, "is that Legato Bluesummers would never have allowed your friends to live."

Vick opened her mouth to ask one of the millions of questions she had for him, but closed it just as quickly the moment Wesker began to speak.

"Everything is going according to plan," he drawled, sounding bored. "The residents of Brawlers Mansion are too spineless to confront me after I put them all down, neither will they cast me out after such humiliation. The girl's opinion seems to matter to all of them; as long as I have the ability to appeal to her darker nature, she will all but beg them to abide my presence…" Wesker broke off with an indulging laugh that made Vick feel suddenly unclean.

"Excellent," answered the man called Legato Bluesummers, in a tone like frozen steel. "What of the man, Judas? I have reason to believe that he is following us."

Vick couldn't be positive, but she thought she heard the man in the black hat chuckle softly from within the blackness of the shadows.

"As do I," Wesker confirmed, his jaw set angrily, "but I have yet to encounter him."

"I suppose it doesn't really matter," sighed Legato in mock tragedy. "Perhaps he could pose a threat to one of us, but together… Let him lurk about. There is little he can do to stand against us."

A flicker of movement appeared in Vick's peripheral vision, and she glanced up; another figure was outlined crouching on the eaves of the fast food joint next door. He appeared to be wearing flight gear similar to that which Wolf usually wore, though Vick did not recognize him at all; he was a lizard of some kind, a chameleon by the shape and curvature of his tail. The flickering streetlights reflected off a switchblade in his hand, and glancing down at her the chameleon pressed the index finger of his free hand to his lips, an indicator that Vick would do well to keep quiet.

"Let us move against them soon," finished Legato Bluesummers, and when he turned away from Wesker Vick was afforded a glimpse of a cruelly handsome face and piercing golden eyes. "I grow tired of waiting."

"Run along now," whispered the man in the black hat, his voice just audible from the shadows in which he was concealed, and rising from her crouch Vick slowly began to back away.

She was only a few yards from the back exit to The Shadow when she accidently nudged the sack she had left in the alley with heel of one of her boots, sending the glass bottles crashing to the pavement.

Wesker moved so quickly that Vick saw only a blurred outline of his figure as he rushed toward her; he skidded to a halt right in front of her and thrust his hand out, slamming her in the chest with an open-palmed strike of his non-dominant hand. The force of the blow knocked the wind from Vick's lungs and she exhaled with a sharp _woof_ of air; Wesker continued to drive her back until her back met the wall and he stood towering over her, raising one fist to deal another devastating blow –

- The man with the black hat appeared behind Wesker as if he had been there all the time, but he moved with such grace and soundlessness that Wesker was unaware of his presence. He lifted one hand and conjured a thin steel scalpel from nothingness, driving the blade into Wesker's back just beneath his shoulder blade. Wesker grunted and his eyes flared crimson behind his trademark sunglasses, and releasing Vick he spun around sharply to deal with his attacker.

The man that was crouched on the building overhead – the chameleon, Vick assumed – leapt from his perch and almost landed on Wesker's back, one switchblade outstretched before him. The blade tore open Wesker's shoulder and gouged a deep line of red in his flesh all the way down to his tailbone; Wesker snatched at him, but the chameleon was faster than Wesker gave him credit for and he danced away, switchblade dripping blood.

The one called Legato watched all of this with a kind of bored amusement on his face, and then his startling golden eyes glittered strangely and the chameleon was lifted from his feet by some unseen force. The chameleon was whipped violently to one side and tossed across the alley to crash unceremoniously against the dumpster; he slouched to the ground, momentarily dazed, and Legato turned his gaze up Vick. She had nowhere to go – Wesker was growling in front of her, blood running down his back and dripping onto the dark pavement, and Legato was drawing nearer with each long stride. Vick took a reflexive step backward, her eyes on the back exit of The Shadow, but Legato's eyes flashed again and she felt herself rise from the ground.

The invisible force that gripped her felt like a vice around her throat; Vick slapped at the empty air, hoping against hope that she would connect with something solid, but there was nothing – nothing but the man with the awful golden eyes smirking at her helplessness and slowly crushing the life from her. Vick's mind worked frantically, skimming over the names of her friends, knowing that none of them could reach her quick enough but unable to accept that the end was upon her.

_Link Wolf Falco Marth Yami Midna Lucario Sonic –_

Sonic.

Three scalpels pierced through the gloom, illuminated surreptitiously in their flight by the flickering streetlights; all three of the small blades found their mark on the back of Legato's neck and he hissed through his teeth. The force strangling Vick in midair loosened suddenly and she dropped to the ground, the name on her lips before she had even crumpled into a heap.

"SONIC!"

It was fortunate that Lucario was in between sets, or the sound of Vick's voice never would have made it to Sonic's ears. As it was, all four of the men seated at the high top in the corner cocked an ear toward the back exit when Vick cried out, and Sonic was out of his seat and out the door before Yami, Marth, and Falco had even risen to their feet.

The man with the black hat murmured something unintelligible beneath his breath as Wesker and Legato advanced and suddenly the alley was buzzing with knives rending the air; hundreds of scalpels were now descending from on high, slashing through their clothes, tearing through their flesh, and the moment Wesker and Legato had managed to stumble out of reach of the weapons the chameleon was upon them. A laser pistol in one hand he fired at Wesker's chest, and a switchblade still held aloft he stabbed toward Legato –

- The energy bullets lanced through empty air as Wesker dodged them all with barely a thought, and the switchblade seemed to meet an invisible wall as it pinged off the space between himself and Legato. The chameleon took a step back, his teeth bared in ferocity, bracing himself for the retaliation that was sure to follow -

- Sonic appeared at Vick's elbow, hauling her to her feet and slinging her up into his arms. Unfortunately he only managed three steps in the opposite direction before Wesker fell upon him in a fury. Wesker landed a blow to the back of Sonic's head that sent the hedgehog reeling; Vick scrambled away, glancing back long enough to determine that Sonic was only unconscious, not dead.

Which, at this point, could easily have been a very real possibility.

Scalpels rained down from the sky again, stopping Wesker in his tracks and veritably trapping him and Legato in a cage of spinning blades; the man in the black hat whipped around, hem of his black overcoat billowing behind him, and using one arm flattened Vick to his side before jumping sixty feet straight up to land upon the roof of The Shadow.

Again, Vick didn't scream, but this time only because she was beyond terror.

The man with the black hat leapt from building to building with ease, never pausing, until he reached a tall church painted in monochrome colors and perched upon the steeple. Here he released Vick and turned to retrace his footsteps back to the battle, but she reached out and caught him at the elbow before he could leap away.

"You're gonna leave me up here?!" Vick's voice quavered – she was horrified of heights.

The man in the black hat glanced over his shoulder to regard her – his eyes glittered an eerie shade of purple-black, and were so lifeless that Vick wondered if she were staring into the eyes of a corpse. "I had intended to. I could return you to the arms of your would-be killers, if you would prefer."

Vick shook her head vigorously; if she were forced to choose between her fear of heights and her fear of certain death, she would sit up here all night if she had to. He tugged his arm out of her slackened grip and coiled his legs to spring, but this time she stopped him with her voice. "You still haven't told me who you are."

"And it still isn't the time," he murmured, sending chills coursing down her spine again. "But it will be the time soon, and until then, I will be watching."

Then he plummeted from the church and vanished into the shadows of the street below.


	16. The One With the Losing Battle

Skipping from rooftop to rooftop, the man in the black hat made his way back to the battle site, thinking hard. Of course he had intended to get involved in the fight against Wesker and Legato – why wouldn't he? Introducing a little anarchy was in his nature; he was unpredictable, bloodthirsty, ruthless and cruel – and he loved it. He had shadowed them for weeks, committing every single one of their fighting tactics to memory, obsessing over their habits, wondering how he could drive a proverbial stake in between the two. Together the pair was just too much for him, but separately… Separately they were vulnerable, and he would bring them down.

What he hadn't planned on was intervening where the girl was concerned. The corners of his thin mouth turned downward in a severe frown – why had he done that? It would have saved him time and energy to stand by and let Wesker crush her into a pulp. So why hadn't he?

Oh well. It didn't ruin any of his plans, really – he had known before engaging in this battle that he wouldn't kill either of them today. It was more about observing their powers firsthand that he was interested in; ending their lives would come later, when he knew enough, and when he was strong enough.

* * *

><p>Falco, Marth, and Yami sprinted out the back exit of The Shadow and into the dimly-lit alley, only to skitter to an unceremonious halt when they glimpsed Wesker and a blue-haired man they had never seen before trading blows with –<p>

"What the fuck?!" shrieked Falco, his hands automatically going to his belt and drawing his twin laser pistols. "Powalski?!"

Marth and Yami didn't ask questions; instead, Marth drew his sword in one fluid motion and Yami hurriedly clasped the battle disc onto his gauntlet and inserted his Duel Monsters deck into it. Even knowing they couldn't win the three wasted no time in engaging their adversaries, Falco firing shots on Leon at an incredible pace, Marth charging Wesker with his sword-point leading, and Yami drawing a handful of cards and summoning one of his most trusted monsters to do battle against Legato.

The door banged open and almost tore off its hinges on the rebound as Link, Lucario, Mewtwo, Wolf, and Midna sprinted out of The Shadow and into the alleyway to see to the commotion. Suddenly the already-cramped space was unbelievably crowded – Marth almost sliced off one of Lucario's arms with a backswing of his sword – and Midna was screaming for them to hold off their attacks or risk taking one another out when the man with the black hat returned.

Though returned was too simple a word to describe it – rather, he landed nimbly upon the roof of the fast food restaurant next door and summoned another stream of deadly scalpels raining down upon Legato and Wesker. For a moment they all glared at one another, Wesker infuriated, Legato coldly calculating his next move, the man in the black hat morbidly amused with the proceedings, and then all three of them vanished into thin air.

The crowded alley abruptly erupted into mass confusion.

Falco shoved roughly past Mewtwo and then charged ahead, laser pistols leveled at his target; Wolf growled a harsh "No!" and leapt upon him from behind, tackling him to the ground. More than one of them clutched their weapons a little bit tighter as the slender chameleon with the dark eyes vaulted from the rooftop and landed nimbly on the pavement across from them.

**NEWCOMER: LEON POWALSKI**

_(Star Fox 2, Star Fox 64, Star Fox Assault, Star Fox Command)_

"I assume he's got some sort of personal beef with that guy?" guessed Link, gesturing to the ground, and to the struggling avian.

_And it appears Wolf knows him, and has reason to protect him,_ added Lucario.

Falco was fighting for all he was worth to escape Wolf, but the lupine had perhaps fifty extra pounds of muscle working for him and several years more experience. He had no trouble at all trapping Falco in a headlock, and when the avian grew weak from lack of oxygen he grew still enough to subdue easily. Still he glared up at Leon, who had dared to venture a few feet closer. "Damn you! Why?! Why the hell are you here?!"

Leon shrugged. "I don't answer to you, bird, and I never have."

Wolf lifted his head and gave Leon a hard look, then said to Falco, "Relax, okay? I asked him to meet me here." Glancing back at Leon he added, "Though when I told you to meet me here, I meant that you probably could have used the front door."

"I heard voices," Leon explained. "I was listening in on their plans."

More than one mouth opened to inquire as to what plans Leon was referring to, but it was at that moment that Sonic, drifting in and out of consciousness in Yami's arms, shook his head vigorously and called hoarsely, "Vick! Where's Vick?"

"What?!"

"Vick was out here?!"

"Where did she go?!"

"I heard her scream!" Sonic moaned, burying his face in his hands, his shoulders bobbing once. "I ran out here as fast as I could, but those guys were too strong for me… The guy with the black hat took her."

"WHAT?!" shrieked Midna, her eyes blazing with emerald fire as she rounded on him.

Lucario stalked forward, aura pulsating off his body in waves, and they heard his terrifying voice in their minds: _You mean you LOST HER?! _

"He was unconscious," Yami offered imploringly. "Surely he can't be held accountable for her abduction."

"The guy in the black hat was just here, attacking them," Marth reminded, casting his eyes skyward again and scanning the rooftops for any sign of them. "He came back alone. That means he took her somewhere."

"Or he killed her," Leon added remorselessly.

Wolf unwound one of his arms from around Falco's neck and snatched up one of the discarded laser pistols, then shocked them all by firing a single bullet of blue-green laser energy on his own comrade; to his credit, Leon barely flinched, despite the fact that the bullet whizzed so closely by his left ear that he felt the heat emanating from the destructive energy.

"For your sake," snarled Wolf, his voice low and forbidding, "you'd better pray that isn't the truth."

As Yami was helping Sonic unsteadily to his feet, Link approached the dumpster and lashed out with a kick that echoed throughout the alley and sent reverberations stinging up his leg. "Alright... assuming that she's alive, and safe, where the hell is she? That bastard could have taken her anywhere."

Several of the house members were poking around the two intersecting alleys for clues; after a moment of seemingly hopeless searching Marth waved from the south-facing wall of the building north of The Shadow and called, "Over here! I think I found something."

They all crowded around as best they could – a feat in itself, as there were ten of them present - ; Marth was pointing at what seemed to be a napkin, flapping at the corners whenever a breeze kicked up. Written in a cramped yet elegant hand that none of them recognized was a specific location, and nothing more:

Bullet End Church of the Nazarene

"What's it mean?" asked Falco, grinding his beak in frustration, but Wolf, Link, Lucario, and Midna had already put their backs on the scene and were walking swiftly for toward the street. "Hey! Where are you guys going?"

"That's only a mile or so from here," Link told the others with complete certainty in his voice. "It's a long shot, but it could be her location."

"Better try calling the others on the way," Midna was saying as they hurried to their respective vehicles. "Fox, Lance, Meta Knight, Pit, Kirby…"

They were all discussing attack strategies, contingency plans, and the best ways to handle a hostage situation – all except Marth, who had managed to pry his eyes away from the note itself and focus on just what was holding it there.

A razor-edged scalpel, which had been stabbed through the napkin and into the solid brick wall behind it.

* * *

><p>Lucario's Mustang was the first car to arrive, tires squealing, in the parking lot of Bullet End's Church of the Nazarene, followed almost immediately by Falco (riding Pit's custom motorcycle), and a sleek 1951 Mercury painted a sinister shade of dark violet that turned out to be Yami's mode of transportation. Lucario, Wolf, Link, and Midna threw open the doors of the Mustang and piled out onto the dark pavement; Yami, Marth, Mewtwo, and Leon leapt out of the Mercury, and Sonic was already waiting for them, tapping one toe impatiently. Even as they congregated together the Dragoon came piercing out of the darkened sky in a flash of rainbow colors, Pit and Blaze astride it, and Lance soared out of the blackness on the back of his familiar Dragonite, Meta Knight flying in his wake.<p>

Blaze had already laid her hand upon the handle of one of the massive white doors that would lead them into the sweeping church, but Lucario wordlessly held up a hand in her direction to stop her. His amber eyes blazed ruby for a moment or two as he studied the interior of the monastery for living creatures that exuded Aura, but it wasn't long before he shook his head in frustration. _All creatures with a beating heart possess Aura, whether or not they are aware of it. Either there is no one within the church, or our enemies are somehow masking their Aura from me, and hiding Victoria's too._

_Is that even possible?_ asked Mewtwo, a steely edge to his tone.

_The power of these men – Wesker, the man with the blue hair, and the man with the black hat – is beyond anything I have ever personally witnessed,_ Lucario answered gravely. _I am not prepared to put any extraordinary feats out of their reach_.

Blaze eased the door open, her eyes darting back and forth; behind her, several of the others drew weapons with which to engage their enemies if necessary. Pit, Meta Knight, and Lance nodded to one another, and instead of entering the church made their way up to the roof. More agile than Dragonite and faster than Meta Knight, Pit reached their destination first; immediately he spotted Vick crouched in the center of the roof, her arms wrapped firmly around the church's steeple and her head nestled into the crook of one elbow.

"Tell them we've got her!" Pit called back to Meta Knight, and the smallest swordsman made his way back down to the ground, shouting for the others.

Pit and Lance hurried toward her, and while Pit kept a sharp eye out for any threats Lance knelt down beside her and gathered her into his arms. Vick curled into his chest without even looking up, and carrying her as carefully as he could manage without jostling her Lance turned and moved back to where Dragonite was waiting. "Victoria – "

"Vick," she mumbled, a note of irritation in her voice, and Lance cracked a smile of relief at the familiar banter.

"Vick, are you alright? Are you hurt?" They had reached the ground now, and the others gathered around concernedly; Pit motioned for them to give her a little space, for she was a shade paler than usual.

"I'm alright," Vick answered in a much more alert tone. "I'm not hurt." Then, almost as an afterthought, she added timidly, "Are we off the roof yet?"

"Of course." Lance eased her into the backseat of the Mustang, where she at last opened her startled gray eyes to gaze wildly about her surroundings; Lucario immediately lurched forward and seized one of her hands in both of his own, and Falco did the same the instant he was near enough. Vick's eyes alighted on each of them in turn, and the moment she had caught a glimpse of every single one of them the terror left her eyes; it was clear that she had been wondering if she would ever see them alive again.

_What happened?_ Lucario demanded, his tone harsh since his thoughts were still centered upon the very real possibility that Vick could have been killed; Vick shrank away reflexively, and Blaze wound her arms around the slight woman from behind. The natural heat that emanated from Blaze's body at all times served to settle Vick's nerves, and her tensed muscles relaxed.

"Quit interrogating her," snapped Sonic, and even as Lucario flashed his dagger-edged gaze upon the hedgehog Sonic finished, "Do you really think it's a good idea to talk about what happened out in the open like this? They could be watching us right now."

Blaze glanced past Falco's shoulder; in the parking lot, Wolf, Pit, Marth, Mewtwo, Meta Knight, and Midna were setting up a loose perimeter around Yami's car with various weapons at the ready. There was no way Lucario couldn't concede Sonic's logic. They returned to their respective vehicles and caravanned away from the Church of the Nazarene, Vick huddled in the backseat in between Midna and Blaze, the latter's arms still wrapped around her and the natural heat of her body spreading warmth to every inch of Vick's body.

They didn't linger when they reached Brawlers Mansion, but hurried inside in a single file line; Wolf, the last of their number to enter the house, did something that had never been done before and locked the front door. A few of them made sure that the curtains were all drawn, so that someone lurking in the backyard wouldn't be able to see inside, and ensured that the living room was well lit. Once Vick was settled into the center of the couch with a blanket draped loosely over her shoulders, and the others had claimed seats near her, on the loveseat, the armchairs, or the floor, all eyes settled upon her.

Vick blinked tiredly. "What?"

"Honey," Link murmured disarmingly, reaching across Lucario to pat her forearm soothingly, "we need to know what happened out there tonight."

Kirby leapt off of Marth's lap and scampered toward the kitchen; moments later, they heard the telltale sounds of coffee being brewed. When the aroma of coffee beans was all but thickening the air, she finally opened her mouth and spoke.

"I was just going to take out the trash… there were bottles everywhere, and one of the girls called in sick, so I was pulling a double shift anyway. I was out back headed toward the recycling bin when some guy jumped off the roof of the place next to The Shadow and landed right in front of me."

"Which one was it?" barked Meta Knight; they were all in full interrogation mode now.

Vick shrugged. "I don't know him – I've never seen him before tonight. He's not a regular at The Shadow, and he's never visited the house to fight before. He was really tall, and really thin, and he wore all black, but he had on those white latex gloves that surgeons wear and he had this black hat with a wide brim – "

Wolf, who had been standing guard at the front door and peeking through the curtain of the tiny rectangular window into the darkened driveway every few seconds, started and turned to face Vick. "What did you just say?"

She blinked a few times, obviously wondering what she had said that had so abruptly changed Wolf's demeanor. "Tall, thin, white latex gloves, wide-brimmed black hat."

"Black hair?" Wolf questioned, stepping out of the foyer and into the living room with his arms firmly crossed. "Awfully pale?"

"Yeah… wait, do you know him?"

All eyes were on Wolf now, more than one gaze intensely suspicious, but the lupine shook his head to dispel their fears. "Hell no, I don't know him – he was in our house last night."

"How can that be?!" shrieked Pit.

"Are you serious?!" gasped Midna.

Wolf looked grim and begrudging. "Easy, kids – I chased him out of the house and halfway through the woods on our side of the lake. He didn't steal anything that I could tell, and to be honest he didn't even attack me. When I spotted him, all he did was tear around like he was playing cat-and-mouse with me, the bastard. I even got his hat, and I was gonna show you guys when I woke up and tell you all about it, but by the time I woke up it was dinnertime and then we booked it to The Shadow and it slipped my mind."

"You got his hat?" Vick echoed, puzzled. "But how is that possible? He was wearing it."

"That doesn't make any sense," snarled Wolf, shaking his head from side to side. "Unless he has more than one hat, or he – "

" – Snuck back in," Link finished, and with that he bolted upstairs toward Wolf's room with the lupine, Falco, and Sonic all hot on his heels. They pounded down the second floor hallway and burst into Wolf's room without bothering to ask the mercenary commander's permission, and once they had all admitted themselves he slammed the door behind them and whirled to face the reverse side doorknob.

"It was here," Wolf told them, pointing at the plain bronze knob. "I hung it here when I came in from chasing his ass all over the place."

"You sure Alzheimer's isn't catching up to you early?" snickered Sonic, and Wolf cocked a fist and would have punched the hedgehog with enough force to shatter his cheekbone if Sonic hadn't used his amazing speed to dance out of harm's way. They were still bickering when they descended the stairs and turned back into the living room, where Kirby was distributing mugs of steaming coffee, and Link had the presence of mind to shake his head in answer to their wordless questions.

"It isn't there," he told them. "Which means that sometime after Wolf fell asleep, that guy snuck back in and took it back."

Vick shuddered delicately; Lucario looped an arm around her shoulders, and Blaze inched closer so that Vick could feel the unnatural heat of Blaze's body warming her entire left side. _Where were we?_ asked Lucario.

"Vick saw that guy in the hat…"

"Right," cut in Falco, leaning forward and catching Vick's gaze. "Did he hurt you?"

"No." Vick looked shockingly resolute on that fact, so he changed tactics.

"Did he say anything?"

"I asked him who he was… he didn't answer. I heard voices on the other side of the alley and he led me over there to listen – "

"You followed a complete stranger down a dark alley?!" gasped Lance, turning away from the scouting position he had taken up at the sliding glass door that led from the kitchen to the back porch. "Vick!"

"You might as well have simply handed him one of his own scalpels and exposed your throat to him," snickered Leon, sitting on the floor where the living room ended and the hallway leading to the bedrooms on the first floor began. "A sheep to slaughter."

Falco opened his mouth to retaliate hotly, but Wolf beat him to it. "I know I asked you here to do a job, Powalski, but if you don't watch what you say I will throw you out on your ass – probably full of bullet holes."

Leon didn't reply except to mutter a timid, "You got it, boss."

_What else did he say to you?_ Lucario pressed, his voice gentle, insistent, and exasperated all at once. It was clear he was dismayed by their lack of progress.

"He talked about Wesker and Legato, and then we listened to them talk to each other for a minute before he said anything else."

"Wesker and _who?_" Blaze put in.

"Legato." Vick shrugged; the name clearly meant nothing significant to her. "The guy with the blue hair and white coat who was there with Wesker… his name is Legato Bluesummers. The guy with the black hat said the difference between Wesker and Legato is that 'Legato never would have allowed your friends to live'."

There was a short, very tense pause as the entire household pondered that. Having not been there, it was difficult to put the words into context: was the man in the black hat threatening them? Trying to unnerve them? Or to warn them?

"What else?" pressed Sonic, looking focused.

"That was when Wesker and Legato started talking," Vick continued. "Wesker said that everything was going according to plan, that he had fought you guys and won, yada-yada, and that as long as he stayed in my good books you guys had no choice but to stomach the fact that he was hanging around." She broke off looking nauseous and extremely guilty; Lucario tightened his arm around her shoulders, wondering at how suddenly frail she seemed. "And then Legato asked Wesker about someone called Judas, and I heard the guy in the hat laugh when they mentioned him."

_Interesting,_ mused Mewtwo. _That this man should be amused at the mention of Judas… I wonder… is it an alias, perhaps, that the man in the black hat is accustomed to answering to?_

_That's possible,_ Lucario agreed. _Surely that's not his real name, though_.

"Which means that there is still a great deal we do not know about what is happening here," Meta Knight concluded, somehow managing to look somber behind his full metal faceplate.

"That was about the time I noticed him," Vick cocked her chin in Leon's direction, "and the last thing Legato said was that he wanted to move against all of you soon."

Another uncomfortable silence descended upon them all as they considered the battle they would eventually have to face. Despite the overwhelming numbers in their favor, none of them were foolish enough to believe that the fight would be theirs. If by some miracle they managed to succeed, many lives would be lost. Which of their friends would no longer be sitting amongst them when all was said and done?

Thankfully, Yami broke the dismal silence. "And then?"

"The guy in the hat told me to 'run along', so I started heading back toward The Shadow. But I bumped into the sack of glass bottles I had brought out with me, and of course everybody heard the racket I made." Vick looked angry with her carelessness. "Wesker was on me in about half a second."

This knowledge was enough to severely straighten the spine of every man in the room, and to set fires blazing in every single pair of eyes. Wolf's voice was sharp as a whip crack. "That son of a bitch hurt you?!"

Vick lifted one arm and gingerly tugged down the collar of her We Came as Romans t-shirt: clearly delineated on her chest, centered between her clavicle and her breasts, was a deep violet, palm-shaped bruise. The sight of it was enough to set the blood boiling in their veins, and bile welling in their throats. Kirby dashed out, rummaged around in the kitchen freezer for a moment, and bounded back in brandishing an ice pack, which he helpfully thrust in Vick's direction. She took it gratefully, tugged her shirt back into place, and settled back against the couch cushion while applying the cold compress. "Thanks."

_This is inexcusable,_ spat Lucario, his eyes burning crimson, his arm so tight around Vick's shoulders that she winced at the force of it. _For him to treat her this way… No man should handle a woman so heartlessly and get away with it._

"I was prepared to abide much," agreed Meta Knight, "but not this."

"Of all the spineless, pathetic, disgusting…" Falco was mumbling rapidly, his voice trembling, his fists shaking uncontrollably at his sides.

And then, Marth said the one thing they all desperately needed to hear: "Tomorrow, it's back to work for all of us. No more loafing around, enjoying our vacation. We train, all together, and we train hard. We work harder than we've ever worked in our lives, and we make sure that nothing like this ever happens again."

They nodded assent, every one of them, and Vick swore she felt her heart swell with pride.

Lance's face betrayed a hint of helplessness behind his stoic façade when he asked, "How did you escape?"

Vick opened and closed her mouth several times, searching for words, and at long last she mumbled wonderingly, "The guy in the black hat saved me."

"What?!" shrieked Pit.

"Yeah… he came out of nowhere… appeared right behind Wesker and stabbed him in the back with a scalpel. And then Leon jumped down from the roof and attacked him too…" Vick's words were tumbling out of her mouth now, her voice growing more and more incredulous as she recalled it all with startling clarity. "And then Legato caught me, and he was choking me and holding me off the ground, but I might have hallucinated that part because he never actually touched me."

"You didn't imagine it," Leon cut in smoothly, finally condescending to glance up from the patch of carpet his eyes had previously been riveted to. "Legato Bluesummers is a known telepath, and is more skilled in psycho-kinesis than even your friend Mewtwo. It would be no trouble at all for him to immobilize you in midair and choke the life out of you without lifting a single finger."

_How do you know these things?_ Mewtwo demanded, but Leon only shrugged.

"I have lived almost all my life in the bowels of places that sensible people would never go," admitted the chameleon. "In my line of work, with my clientele, you hear things."

"Translation: if you're a scumbag and you want to know something about another scumbag, all you have to do is ask your scumbag friends for info," snarled Falco.

Leon's eyes glittered sadistically as he glanced Falco's way. "Or you could simply torture a bleeding heart Loyalist for the info; they squeal like piglets. It's infinitely more enjoyable."

Falco roared and lurched forward, but Yami tackled him from behind and pinned him to the ground with Midna's help. Wolf shoved away from the front door and stalked into the living room, looking livid. "Get out."

Leon's face fell, but he didn't budge from his seat. "Don't be ridiculous, Commander O'Donnell… You'd side with a Loyalist – a rival mercenary – over your own wing mate?"

"I'm not going to pretend that your joke about torturing Loyalists wasn't funny," Wolf admitted sourly, "But right now I'm not in the mood for it. Vick could've been killed tonight, and that pisses me off. We've got to stick together and figure all this bullshit out, and you're being counter-productive. Get out. Come back tomorrow." Seeing that Leon had every intention of protesting further, Wolf added, "Don't make me tell you again."

The chameleon rose to his feet, jerked the tiniest bow of obeisance that he could manage in his fury, and stalked out without another word. Falco had just succeeded in throwing Yami and Midna off him and was stumbling to his feet when Wolf closed the distance between them, seized the avian by the collar, and slammed him back against the wall to the left of the fireplace.

"I get that jokes about Loyalists getting tortured grates on your nerves," admitted the lupine, "but if we're all gonna work together like Marth said, you're gonna have to learn how to bite your tongue. I can keep Leon under control because he's my guy and my word is law in his world, but if you don't keep your attitude under control I'll carve you up for Thanksgiving. Clear?"

"Crystal," wheezed Falco, his eyes flat with resentment, and Wolf released him roughly and immediately crossed back into the foyer to lock the door through which Leon had exited. He glanced back briefly to check on Vick – her eyes were upon him, wide with anxiety and awe – and flashed a wink her way before tugging the curtains aside to scan the driveway again.

"So," Blaze inserted delicately, "this Legato is a practiced psycho-kinetist?" Her eyes settled upon Mewtwo. "What is the best way to combat someone who possesses such powers?"

Mewtwo shrugged, seeming to be at a loss for words. _Those whom I have tested my powers upon have only this to say: when combating a psycho-kinetist, the chosen method of offense makes little difference. It is your mental defense that makes you either successful or unsuccessful; those who are strong of willpower will find it easier to resist the urgings of psycho-kinesis, and ignore the words of a telepath. If you like, tomorrow I can test all of you – determine who is strong of will, and who would do well to train with me for extensive periods of time._

Yami was nodding along with every word. "The logic is sound. I accept."

All around the others were murmuring their assent, and the atmosphere in the room was changing from one of frustration to one of determination. Midna managed to keep a cool head and bring them back to the discussion at hand. "That's all fine and good, but… Vick, how did you get away from Legato?"

She took a moment to sift through her memory, and with that same puzzled expression Vick said, "…The guy with the black hat! I saw him throw three scalpels and they all hit Legato… I think the pain must have made him lose his focus."

_That's good,_ Mewtwo cut in, looking pleased. _The mark of a talented psycho-kinetist is his ability to endure all outside distractions and manipulate his craft. If the man in the black hat interrupted Legato's psychic attack with a mere physical one, it is possible that Legato's abilities are dependent upon his offensive abilities, and his defense is weak._

"Let's hope so," breathed Pit, and a spattering of nervous laughter answered him.

"Anyway, when Legato got hit, he dropped me," Vick continued. "The second I could scream, I called for Sonic. I knew he would get there fastest."

"And believe me, he hauled ass," Falco promised. "He was out the door and gone before the rest of us could even get out of our chairs."

Vick beamed at Sonic, but he waved away her appreciation, looking displeased with himself. "It didn't matter; I didn't last long. I was trying to drag Vick out of there when Wesker nailed me in the back of the head; I didn't wake up until you guys got there."

"Which brings rise to an interesting question," interrupted Link, raising an eyebrow Vick's way. "How in the hell did you wind up on the roof of that church?"

"That guy in the black hat again." She blew a sigh, her expression impossible to read. "It's tough to explain… It was like the second he knew we were in deep he grabbed me and ran. He left me on top of the church. And he never told me who he was, or why he bothered saving me."

Lance was shaking his head, the helplessness and frustration they all felt finally breaking through his discipline. "But that doesn't make any sense. We're all grateful that he kept you safe, but that doesn't explain why the man in the black hat risked his life for yours. You don't know one another. You have absolutely no history together. I see no motive for his behavior."

"That might just be it," Meta Knight hypothesized. "Have you not heard the phrase 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend'? It may be that our adversaries, Legato and Wesker, are also adversaries of this man in the black hat. If that is true, perhaps he went out of his way to keep Vick safe just to spite them. By helping us and thwarting them, he helps himself."

They all mulled this over together – the logic was sound, but they had no proof; none of them were willing to pin all of their hopes on a single supposition. More than one set of eyes was gazing in Link's direction now, seeking a temporary decision, and remembering that he had always been viewed as their unofficial leader Link cleared his throat and leaned forward to address them. "Okay, here's what we'll do – there's no point in starting our training tonight since we're all exhausted and on edge. What we need to do right now is take a step back, focus our thoughts, and relax. Everybody needs some sleep, but I'm not leaving this house unguarded and I know you guys don't want to either. We'll keep watch in shifts, three at a time – somebody on the front porch, someone else on the back porch, and since Vick seems to be in the most danger right now I want the third person in her room watching her window." He broke off, looking a little guilty as he glanced over at Vick as though seeking her permission to authorize such a thing. In response, she simply laughed.

"I'm not an idiot," she confessed, though admitting such a thing seemed to cause her pain in some way. "I know that if they show up here, I have no chance at fending them off. If one of you was watching over me, I would sleep better tonight."

At these words, Lance turned back to face the group at large. "Then with your permission, I would be more than happy to be the first one to watch over you."

Was Vick blushing, Lucario wondered? Even as he watched her she responded strangely to Lance's offer; her cheeks grew noticeably pink, making her pale face appear almost heartbreakingly lovely, and she tucked a stray strand of silver-blonde hair behind one ear embarrassedly. She did her best to hide it by saying, "That's fine with me" in a most nonchalant way, but Lucario glanced over at Link questioningly and the Hylian shrugged. So he had noticed it too?

The moment passed quickly as Falco said, "Then I'll take the front porch."

"And I'll take the back," finished Sonic, standing up and stretching lightly as he went. "I can run circuits of the entire yard and extend out to the lake if I need to."

"Then let's all try and get some rest," concluded Link, shoving himself off of the loveseat, and as the others followed suit he cast one last remark. "And if you have friends – you know, friends that would be willing to help out in a situation like this, where the odds are pathetically against us – well, give them a call, will you?"

"Tell them we have beer," Wolf suggested, and they all shared a half-hearted laugh before going their separate ways.

* * *

><p>Wesker slammed the door so hard that it cracked the doorframe and shattered every single window of the executive landing of the skyscraper where they had been periodically meeting to discuss their "business dealings". Legato Bluesummers turned back to face him, idly dusting shards of glass from his overcoat and looking disinterested. As he watched, Wesker tore the sunglasses from his face and cast them down upon the table: his eyes were lava-red and brighter than lasers.<p>

"This is not at all how I expected this would go!" Wesker snarled, his teeth curling back to expose every single one of his teeth. "The girl has surely sold me out by now… I will never be able to set foot in that house again! They will be on high alert for us… we will have to delay, possibly even postpone our plans indefinitely! Why were you not better prepared?!"

Legato's gold eyes flashed an acidic yellow for a moment before dulling back to their original color; normally Wesker took this as a sign to watch his step, but in his anger he hardly cared whether he had insulted his colleague or not. Legato shed his coat – the build of his torso and his arms would have made any man standing against him feel instantly wary – and folded his arms.

**NEWCOMER: LEGATO BLUESUMMERS**

_(Trigun)_

In a forbidding voice Legato hissed, "_Kuroudo, _Albert. _Akabane Kuroudo._ Were you at all prepared to do battle with the man they call 'Judas'? Did you think he had an accomplice? Had you divined the possibility that the girl's friends would get involved? Because if you knew those things, I may have to reconsider our business dealings. If you have been withholding valuable information from me…"

"Come now," chuckled a whispery voice from behind them, "be fair. He had no way of knowing I was planning on showing up, so there is really no need for you two to be at odds with one another."

They both straightened and turned slowly, feeling very foolish indeed that they had been caught at such a state of unawares. The man about whom they had been speaking was sitting on the edge of the window, seemingly oblivious to the broken glass scattered all around him; in his hand he held his trademark wide-brimmed black hat, and his black coat rippled about his ankles in the light breeze. He did not flinch back when they both regarded him with murderous glares – was that _humor_ in the depths of his empty eyes?

**NEWCOMER: AKABANE KUROUDO**

_(Get Backers)_

He finished by dipping his head ever-so-slightly and placing his hat back where it belonged, then gripped the brim between his forefinger and thumb and situated the hat into a decidedly roguish angle. When he glanced back up, he was smiling – not a genuine smile of pleasure or happiness, but the quiet, mirthless grin of a cold-hearted killer. "I would hate to break up your happy partnership."

"You had better have a good explanation for your behavior," growled Legato, his gloved hands curling into fists, "for your own sake."

Akabane's smile abruptly disappeared, replaced by a disapproving frown. It was so difficult to read even his mood – were those his true emotions they were seeing, or the well-crafted masks of a master manipulator? It was impossible to be certain. "Let us not result to threatening one another, Mr. Bluesummers – you and I both know our relationship will make little progress, and we will gain nothing."

"'Our relationship'?" Legato repeated skeptically. "Only an hour ago you showed your true colors, Akabane. You openly defied both of us and cast your lot with those bottom-feeders, the Brawlers. The only relationship here that I see is one of mutual hate and distrust."

Akabane dipped his head again; the motion hid his face beneath the brim of the hat. They saw his slight shoulders shaking with laughter, but heard nothing, not until he murmured cryptically, "Those were my true colors, were they?"

Legato Bluesummers almost rocked back a step, clearly taken aback and failing to hide it; Wesker's fists were trembling at his sides, and his weight was shifted so far forward toward Akabane that there could be no mistaking his desire to throttle the man. Legato threw an arm out to belay Wesker's attack, but it was clear that holding him back would soon prove to be an impossible task. His golden eyes veritably burned holes through the black hat's brim when he snarled, "Explain."

"Happily." Akabane's head came up again, revealing another glimpse of that thin-lipped smile that was still somehow disconcerting. His mood swings were giving Legato whiplash. "Despite your above-average powers, you two are just like every other villain I have ever encountered – you have already chosen your side. Unfortunately, in your case, declaring your wickedness makes you laughably predictable." Wesker twitched at Legato's side, and Legato had no choice but to seize the man's forearm to keep him at bay. "You would do well to incorporate into your lifestyles some of the qualities that I myself already possess."

"Arrogance?" suggested Wesker in a clipped tone. "Idiocy? Annoyance?"

"Lovely guesses," congratulated Akabane, still wearing that indulgent smile that was half-amusement and half-malice. "But incorrect. Let me ask you something, gentlemen – what side are you on?"

"Our own?" offered Legato, growing irritated with the proceedings.

"Specifically," Akabane pressed sweetly.

"Stereotypically, evil," Wesker finished.

"And what side are your self-proclaimed enemies on?"

"Good, if you want to be perfectly blasé about it," drawled Legato.

"And whose side am I on?"

Legato said "Ours" as simultaneously Wesker barked "Theirs"; they spent the next ten seconds staring at each other, confused and frustrated, as perched upon the mangled window frame Akabane shook with silent laughter again. When their glares snapped upon him Akabane could easily see the barely-contained fury in both, so brushing the glass shards off his black coat he rose and indulged them.

"This is what I'm referring to – the gray area. The indecipherable, indescribable void between the worlds of simple good and evil, the world within which I have lived comfortably for as long as I can remember. This is the world you should better acquaint yourselves with, sirs – for example, the girl was your security before, yes? She was your 'in' with the Brawlers, was she not? If you wish to exploit that avenue again, you must re-establish that connection."

Wesker seemed to take more than a fleeting interest in Akabane's words – the man called Judas took Wesker's expression to heart, making a mental note to delve deeper into that situation at the first available opportunity. "How do you mean? The girl is wise to our plans now. Her trust is not easily earned when squandered once. She is not one to believe in second chances."

Akabane negligently waved a hand. "Posh. All people have weaknesses, and all walls can be broken down. And for the walls that can't be broken… simply bypass them. You have all the tools that you need to accomplish this already. Reconnect. The Brawlers would never go against her word – they will continue to suffer your presence for as long as she wishes it."

Legato's eyebrows had risen so high that the two metallic-blue arches were now lost in the low sweep of his hair. "Why are you telling us this? What do you expect of us in return?"

Akabane turned his back on them, gazing out at Mushroom Kingdom through the floor-to-ceiling broken windows; the urge to kill him was very strong for both Legato and Wesker, but they both sublimated it, though with difficulty. "I expect nothing in return – I tell you these things simply because I want to. If you want to eliminate the Brawlers and claim this world for your own, a more subtle approach is necessary. The time for outright domination comes later. For now, the situation requires more finesse."

Wesker's teeth were bared in ferocity. "I think we can handle the situation without your childish suggestions."

"Yes," chuckled Akabane, one hand upon the jagged window's edge as he contemplated the precipice upon which he stood. "You seemed to have things well in hand when I thwarted your plans tonight. How silly of me to assume that you needed my assistance." And placing one hand gracefully upon his hat to steady it he leapt from the broken window without awaiting a reply.

Legato trained his severe gaze upon Wesker, who was still shaking with rage. "The success of this operation may well hinge upon our ability to sway Akabane's allegiance in our favor. We would do well to heed his words from this point forward, until we can be absolutely certain that he will not betray us. I don't care how you do it, but I want you to regain the girl's trust. It may be that Akabane is right in these matters, and above all else, I want this world to bow before us. How it comes about doesn't matter to me, but on your life, _get it done_."

Wesker turned his back on Legato, sliding his sunglasses back into place on the bridge of his nose as he approached the door. "I know precisely how to handle the girl – don't you worry about that. And keep in mind that it isn't your place to order me around. We entered into this arrangement as partners with equal share. If you cross me, I will kill you."

He exited just as Akabane had done, without awaiting a reply, leaving Legato frowning heavily at the closed door and his eyes shimmering with sparks of golden rage.

* * *

><p>Akabane lingered on the ledge of the level below, just long enough to listen to his two acquaintances – there really was no other word to describe Wesker and Legato, since they were not yet colleagues and they certainly weren't friends – take their final verbal jabs at one another before parting company. He listened hard for the sound of Legato's departure and got what he wished for only a couple of minutes later, when the telepath crossed to the same door through which Wesker had exited and closed it behind him with a sharp, irritated snap.<p>

He could keep the ball rolling all on his own, it seemed, with little more than his inherent skills of manipulation and just the right mix of the truth and lies.

Somehow, it seemed, a great deal of the affairs now unfolding hinged upon the girl – Vick Ralis was her name – and how she responded to the many outside stimuli about to be thrust into her lap. Soon, Wesker would be calling upon her, and on Akabane's suggestion, but that wasn't really a concern – Akabane had tossed the idea to Wesker knowing that the Brawlers would have taken precautionary measures long before Wesker made his move. The Brawlers weren't stupid – they would guard Vick Ralis like the Knights of the Round Table guarded Guinevere.

But where did he, Akabane, fit in? Where was his place among the chaos?

He had yet to decide, so for now his place would be on both sides, until he deemed it necessary to choose one.

* * *

><p>Vick stared at the ceiling of her bedroom for about an hour before she spoke to Lance for the first time; she knew he was awake because she could keenly feel his eyes upon her. She shifted so that she was laying on her right side, her arms wound around one pillow and her hair falling in a stylish mess around her moonlight-pale face; Lance watched her from the shadows near her window, only his deep blue eyes visible, and felt his heart twitch spasmodically within his chest. "You have to help me."<p>

He nodded briefly once, then realized she probably couldn't see him and so leaned forward away from the wall; the moonlight filtering in through the slatted window shade slanted across the right half of his face, and he repeated the motion. "I've been thinking the same thing."

It was a wonder how well they understood one another, Vick marveled, considering how little they really knew about each other. "I'm only human. I have no real powers and nothing I can contribute to these guys. But they're more like family to me than anyone else I've ever known; how can I just sit by and let them risk their lives for me? There's got to be something I can do to help them."

Lance drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, propping his chin upon one gauntlet and surveying her thoughtfully. "Pokemon are mighty creatures, Victoria – "

"Vick."

" – And they can help you to accomplish almost anything you can imagine. They can be friends, helpers, guardians, traveling companions, even warriors. In days that passed before my reckoning, uncivilized people even fought wars with them over territories and resources. With your compassion and determination, you would make a fine trainer. Your Pokemon would defend you unfalteringly."

She sighed, melancholy. "I'll need more than compassion and determination if I want to carry my share of the load. I want to catch my own Pokemon, Lance. I want to raise them my way and pull my own weight. I want to prove to these guys that I'm not some useless damsel in distress. I can kick ass! I just need to figure out how to first."

Lance couldn't help but crack a smile, and Vick smiled in return. Every time he smiled it seemed a reluctant thing, and she felt like she had won a personal victory every time she saw even the tiniest grin on his face. "I completely understand. Your approach is noble and selfless; I would be honored to serve as your mentor."

Vick's brow furrowed. "Mentor?"

"Yes. Every beginning trainer has a mentor; the mentor is responsible for giving his trainee her very first Pokemon." Lance paused for a moment, deliberating, then added, "Mewtwo will have his hands full tomorrow testing the others and their ability to repel psycho-kinetic attacks; it's possible that you and I could travel to the region where Pokemon live nearest to here and equip you for the trials I fear you will soon be facing. Since Link seems to be the leader here, of sorts, I will ask for his permission at first light and we can make our way the moment you are ready."

Despite her determination to contribute, Vick looked mildly nervous. "Which region is closest, anyway?"

"The region I am from – Johto. Six hours as Dragonite flies."

"Can Lucario come?" There was no point in denying it – Vick always felt more at ease when her best friend was around.

To her surprise, Lance didn't object. "I don't see why not. His willpower is quite strong; he has fought Mewtwo on many friendly occasions in the past and his Aura has sharpened his mental defenses over the course of many years. There is little point to him training with the others tomorrow."

Vick found herself smiling again. "You wish you could catch them."

Lance was looking sheepish, but he answered her honestly. "It goes against the grain to interact with wild Pokemon of their skill level and _not_ attempt to catch them. It is the only life I have ever known…" He sighed whimsically. "There is only one Mewtwo in the history of Pokemon, and Lucario… I am positive that he is the oldest, the wisest, the very strongest of his kind. To claim them as allies… I would consider it a very great honor."

"You don't have to own them to consider them allies," Vick pointed out.

"I have never considered Pokemon my slaves. They are my friends and companions. Though I am certain that soon I will see both Lucario and Mewtwo the way that you do." Vick yawned hugely and tried to hide it behind her hands, but it didn't escape Lance's notice; he shifted forward into a kneeling position, bringing him right up to her beside, and finished, "But now you are tired, and you should rest. You have a busy day ahead of you tomorrow."

Vick blinked sleepily and tried to glare at him stubbornly, but the effect was lost behind another yawn; Lance laughed softly and ruffled her hair with his black-gloved fingertips. Their eyes met for a moment, his fingers lingering in her hair, before Lance drifted back into a sitting position and melted back into the shadows beside the window.

"Sleep well, Victoria," he murmured. "Dream sweet dreams."

"It's Vick," she mumbled thickly, and she was asleep barely five seconds after correcting him.

* * *

><p>Leon Powalski took a cab back to Bullet End and was just investigating the alleyway in which he had combated Albert Wesker and Legato Bluesummers when his business cell phone rang. He extracted the little silver Nokia from a zipper pocket of his cargos, frowning at it solemnly – he only got calls from the fringe of the Lylat System during wartime, so this call couldn't be pertaining to his assassin skills, his talents of interrogation, or someone seeking the needs of a professional torturer. If it were Wolf calling to discuss the matter that had occurred back at the mansion, he would have simply called Leon's private line – Wolf was the closest thing to a friend Leon had ever known, after all. He had also made it a point to reschedule all of his scene clients upon taking the job Wolf had offered him – he was a mercenary first, and a dominant second. He flipped the cellular phone open and checked the caller ID readout; the digitized window read a number he vaguely recognized, and the listing was for Black Sapphire, a private company that specialized in vintage and custom spacecraft. He clicked the talk button and lifted the device up to his ear. "I thought I made it clear this afternoon that our appointment has been rescheduled for next Wednesday at nine pm."<p>

"Forget the damn scene! I just got a call from Falco – he said you went up against Wesker and a couple of other nutcases at The Shadow earlier, that all kinds of bad shit is about to go down, and that Wolf booted your ass out of our house! You told me you were cancelling on me because you had 'another business engagement'. I want to know what the hell is going on!"

Leon smirked and hopped up nimbly to seat himself upon the lid of the closed dumpster. "It's precisely as I said – I got a job from my commander. That takes precedence over everything else. You'll just have to wait your turn, now won't you?"

"Goddammit Leon – "

"Have you forgotten the rules already?" Leon's voice cracked like a whip. "You will address me as 'Sir' for as long as this arrangement lasts. Is that clear?"

The voice on the other line expelled the tiniest of exasperated sighs before muttering "Yes, Sir" in the most condescending of tones. Leon found it impossible to swallow a chuckle.

"Given our unique situation," Leon continued, as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened, "I will give you the details. It's true that I fought Albert Wesker and Legato Bluesummers outside The Shadow tonight; it's also true that I set foot in Brawlers Mansion, and that Wolf found it in everyone's best interests to remove me from the premises. He and I will be in touch tomorrow, but I think the news you will find most interesting is that the job Wolf contracted me for is a shadow job."

The silence on the other line was decidedly uneasy. "Who are you shadowing?"

"You, Fox. Wolf ordered me to shadow you. Apparently he caught a snippet of our conversation when I called you last night. I'm amazed that he didn't recognize my voice, to be honest, but let's not question good fortune, shall we?"

Fox McCloud scooted his chair away from his desk just enough to lean forward and bang his head against the surface. He had heard that it was impossible to engage in an affair for any number of reasons – someone always gets too attached for his own good, the third party always catches wind of his partner's infidelity, etcetera, etcetera, but this? This would go down in history as the most complicated, most grossly executed affair in history. He was the leader of the renown mercenary unit Star Fox and the poster boy for the Loyalist empire; it was bad enough that he was already sleeping with rival mercenary leader and top Separatist supporter Wolf O'Donnell, but add to that the fact that he had secretly made plans to engage in a dominant/submissive affair with said rival mercenary leader's right hand man and not only was he certainly signing his own death warrant, but he was fairly certain he would have Jerry Springer banging down his door before the week was out.

He rubbed his sore forehead with one hand, only partially attuned to Leon's silence on the other end of the line. It was quite simple how this mess had happened, really – he had been flitting through a BDSM workshop in downtown Corneria City just three days ago, and had been terrified to find none other than Leon Powalski, feared assassin and torturer, hosting a seminar on "Dominating Your Submissive With Your Voice Alone". Naturally he had paused at the back of the group and listened to the last two-thirds of Leon's presentation, slack-jawed with amazement when Leon proved his skills at the end of the seminar by forcing a random audience member into complete and total submission in less than two minutes without ever resorting to physical contact of any kind. It would have been a harmless encounter – except that Leon easily recognized Fox's face in the crowd, and had made a point of confronting him at the end of the seminar.

Leon had been skeptical at first when Fox swore he wasn't there as a hitman for Loyalist leader General Pepper, and had laughed openly when Fox admitted that he was really there out of curiosity – after all, who would believe that the leader of Star Fox got his kicks from being dominated? But they had chatted about it for a little while and gradually Leon had come to understand the irrefutable truth – Fox was a classic submissive, all right, and so unsatisfied that it bordered on criminal. Leon had propositioned Fox at the end of their conversation, Fox had promptly declined, and they both had assumed the situation was an isolated one that was not likely to repeat itself.

The very next day had been Fox's interview with elitist flight company Black Sapphire, who had advertised for a temp job with daytime hours and above average pay to anyone who could remodel and refinish vintage and custom spacecraft; Fox fit these requirements perfectly, and the chief engineer had arranged to meet with him without delay. When Fox walked in to interview, Leon walked out – as it happened, they had unknowingly booked interviews for the same job, in adjacent time slots. Leon had lingered outside the door and listened in on the whole of Fox's interview, obviously, and had ascertained all the private information he needed from the timbre of the mercenary's voice. Fox was clearly unsatisfied – that much was obvious – but was so terrified of his secret lifestyle that he likely had never asked anyone to experiment with him.

Well, Leon had thought, there was a first time for everything.

When Fox had walked out of his interview, Leon had been waiting; the chameleon had handed him a generic business card and said "I'll be in touch" before leaving the sputtering vulpine behind him without any further explanation. Clearly Fox had been intrigued, despite his protests; he had answered halfway through the very first ring, and at four-thirty in the morning, no less. Fox had refused to associate with Leon in a private setting and rather rudely hung up, but that was just fine – good clients always called back, and Leon had been considering Fox his client since he had spotted the vulpine in the crowd at his seminar.

True to psychological form, Fox _had_ called back – at ten o' clock earlier this very day, as he had been on his way to his first shift with Black Sapphire. He had first politely apologized for his rudeness and then asked Leon a few rather businesslike questions regarding the dominant/submissive scene before requesting an appointment. He had stuttered so adorably through his request… how could Leon refuse? The chameleon had penciled Fox into his mildly busy schedule for that week for Thursday night at seven pm and left it at that.

Which was foolish on his part, considering that nothing ever escaped the notice of one Wolf O'Donnell. Wolf had called Leon's private line at three in the afternoon, the first time Leon had heard from his mercenary commander in who-knew-how-many months, and explained the situation in full, finally requesting that Leon shadow Fox and report to him any irregularities. Of course, Leon had accepted the job; Wolf was his boss, his confidante, the man he had followed unwaveringly for as long as he had been a Separatist. He owed Wolf his life, and at the very least owed Wolf his compliance on this job. He had then called Fox, shifted his appointment to the following week, and left it at that.

So Leon had procured Fox's work schedule at Black Sapphire by infiltrating the faculty lounge when none of the employees were present – a simple task, really – and gone to The Shadow later that night to meet up with Wolf as he had been instructed. Committing himself to combat against Wesker and Legato hadn't been part of the plan, but who said that spontaneity was a sin? Now they had been caught in some form of the word; Fox faced the disapproval of the entire Loyalist regime and widespread dishonor, and Leon couldn't guess what to expect where Wolf was concerned. The possibilities ranged from unemployment to castration.

"Leon? I mean, Sir?"

Leon snapped to attention; he had been unaware of his reminiscing. "Hmm?"

"I said, what are we gonna do?"

Leon deliberated. It would be difficult to do the job Wolf had contracted him to do when he had been involved from the very start. His answer was vague. "We do nothing. We will conduct our lives as we have been thus far. Wolf's attention is divided now since Legato and Wesker have moved out into the open, so it may be that this is only a temporary complication. We'll both be involved against them, so we'll just have to pretend that we hate each other when we're in one another's company. As for our appointment, I suppose that we could permanently cancel it and part company on these terms."

Fox's voice was feeble and resentful; already he hated himself. "I don't want to cancel."

"Good; neither do I. Until then, do not contact me in any way, do you understand? It is too dangerous at this point."

"Yes, Sir."

"Good boy. Now go home and get some sleep – there's mass training starting in the morning and you should have left the office five and a half hours ago." Leon flipped the cell phone closed just as Fox erupted into half-formed protests – probably wondering how Leon knew his work schedule so well, Leon presumed.

He stared at the phone in his hand for a solid ten minutes, wondering if Fox would break his word and call back. Leon was mildly surprised, yet undeniably pleased, when the phone did not ring again.

* * *

><p>The morning was a tensely quiet affair: the last of the Brawlers was out of bed and fully dressed no later than seven thirty, and they all met in the kitchen to have breakfast together. There was very little conversation as they ate second and third helpings of Kirby's breakfast (chocolate chip pancakes); talk was mostly serious, and attempts at humor were either forced or strained.<p>

After breakfast, they trained.

Mewtwo, as it turned out, was really a phenomenal teacher. He spent the first four and a half hours cycling through every single member of the household one by one, working with each person in an individual setting before moving on to the next. He walked them through exactly what they could expect, the telltale signs that a psycho-kinetic attack was about to come their way, and basic defense. He began with physical manifestations of psychic energy and moved on to mental attacks when they seemed to be getting the hang of it – some of them were naturals when it came to shielding themselves against psychic energy, but others struggled.

Pit's agility was his only real defense against physical psychic attacks; he was quite evasive in most situations and had very good reaction time, so he was able to simply avoid the majority of Mewtwo's physical assaults. He was, however, completely hopeless against mental intrusions. Mewtwo was able to pluck thoughts from Pit's mind with barely an effort; he described Palutena's emissary as an "open book" and feared that if Legato Bluesummers really wanted to extract any information from Pit, he would find the task all too easy.

Blaze didn't need to rely on speed to avoid physical psychic attacks; Mewtwo's psywave wasn't strong enough to break through a wall of fire conjured by the cat, and when he fired orbs of psychic energy (much like Lucario's Aura Sphere) she simply retaliated by deflecting them with fireballs, or negating them altogether. Her mental defense was also quite strong; at the beginning of the second part of her training she could repel Mewtwo's intrusions into her mind with a great deal of effort, and by the time her turn was over Mewtwo was breaking into a sweat just trying to read her surface memories.

Kirby proved to be a curious case if Mewtwo had ever encountered one. When faced with physical psychic energies the little creature simply opened his mouth and swallowed them; the first time he did this the Brawlers looking on gasped and screamed, but Kirby had merely swallowed and laughed at his amazing little trick. It seemed to have no effect on him whatsoever. Mewtwo also found it quite difficult to infiltrate Kirby's mind, which he couldn't help but find disappointing. Kirby never spoke, so it would have been terribly fascinating to link up to his thought process.

Yami didn't have a prayer in the world when it came to fighting against physical manifestations of psychic energy. The problem was that he relied heavily upon the one thing that none of them would have in a battle against Legato Bluesummers: _time_. Yami had to draw cards and carefully calculate his moves before he made them; in his trade, choosing even one wrong card could mean utter failure. Mewtwo fought especially hard against Yami just to prove to the others that time was a luxury they did not have. When it came time to test Yami's mental capacities, though, Mewtwo was baffled; the reincarnated pharaoh's mind was easily the most complicated labyrinth he had ever encountered. Even Legato Bluesummers would have to spend years of his life to become even vaguely acquainted with the complex mental defenses Yami boasted.

Wolf found Mewtwo's training especially difficult. It was really a shame; he was confident, tenacious, scrappy, and just downright tough, but his mind was so easy to penetrate that it was like trying to stop a laser beam with a piece of paper. By the end of his mental defense training, poor Wolf had a migraine; his efforts were commendable and he had given his all, but he just didn't possess the necessary mental facilities.

Midna was different. Just keeping track of her long enough to launch a physical psychic attack was a chore, as she was a master at concealing herself in even the smallest shadow and she was impossible to locate once she had done so. On the rare occasion that Mewtwo got off an attack in her direction, her mysterious shadow magic negated his psychic energy quite easily. Her mind was also quite strong, though when it came down to a battle of will against will, she didn't have the mental stamina to fend off Mewtwo's mental intrusions. She couldn't win against Legato in this way, perhaps, but she could certainly wear him down.

Falco had average success when it came to avoiding a physical psychic assault, and couldn't fight against one if the need arose. His willpower was not strong enough to ward off a psycho-kinetist as strong as Legato Bluesummers, but he more than made up for that with his determination. There was no other way to say it: Falco Lombardi was the most stubborn individual Mewtwo had ever encountered, and he was so determined not to fail that it made breaking down his mental defenses quite a chore for Mewtwo.

Fox was quick enough to evade most physical psychic attacks, but he was much the same as Wolf when it came to combating the more cerebral forms of psychic assault. His mind just didn't work that way; he had spent his entire life pursuing physical perfection as a means of battling back any threat to the galaxy he protected, and had never had a reason to sharpen his will. Because of this, his mind was an easy target for a mental predator.

Marth was so-so on both counts. He had good reflexes, and his sword was strong enough to deflect smaller forms of psychic energy, but anything larger than a basketball and he would be taking a hit. It wasn't that his mind wasn't sharp – he was much more intelligent than the other Brawlers gave him credit for – it was that he was easily distracted. Mewtwo left their match with the impression that if he set a hamster loose on the battlefield at the right moment, Marth would be pushing up daisies, and his brain would be the consistency of applesauce.

Link's sword was imbued with so many enchantments that it was capable of repelling all manner of physical psychic attacks, even the largest that Mewtwo could conjure (which were about as large as a car). His mind was not ideally suited to fend off mental psychic energies, but in his travels he had encountered so many different types of strange powers that he had adapted over the years. A large portion of the mental attacks that Mewtwo could dish out were things that Link was already familiar with; he wasn't the strongest when it came to mental defense by any means, but he was certainly the most seasoned.

Meta Knight was battle-hardened and was more a veteran than anyone else among them, but unfortunately that gave him almost no edge in Mewtwo's training. His evasiveness was exceptional but his mind was not particularly adept at battling a mental intruder, and this frustrated him. He was used to being at the top of his form in every way possible; being subpar at something grated on his nerves.

Sonic was completely impossible to attack using physical psychic attacks; he was so unbelievably fast that Mewtwo hardly saw the point. Once, though, just to spite him, Mewtwo flung a wall of invisible psychic energy right in the hedgehog's path and delighted in the spectacle that followed. Sonic claimed that combating mental psycho-kinetic attacks was not all that different from a technique that one of his old rivals had perfected – he called it "Chaos Control" - , and so was not bad at repelling mental intrusions as well.

They broke for lunch at around twelve thirty – the sun had been beating down on them relentlessly ever since they had started training, and it was so humid that they were all sweating profusely. Kirby made a light meal for them, just sandwiches and iced tea, and they took an hour to recover in the air conditioning while they chatted about how their morning training session had gone.

At around two o' clock, when they were about to get back to work, the guests started to arrive.

The first to arrive was Leon Powalski, still clad in his Star Wolf flight suit and now wearing a tactical vest sporting at least four different kinds of knives. He was the only one of the mercenaries they had seen who did not fight with the advanced laser technology they were used to seeing. He walked in through the front door without even knocking, as comfortable as any of the men who actually lived there, and beamed around at them. The smile did not reach his eyes.

"After everything that happened last night," he said, "I'm shocked that you don't at least lock the front door."

Falco cursed explicitly and leapt to his feet, but three of his companions were all ready to snag him before he got too far. Fox rose from his seat on the floor and faced Star Wolf's professional assassin, trembling from head to toe. "Falco called me last night and told me you'd been here, but I didn't really believe him. You've got a lot of balls, showing your face in front of us."

Leon waved a hand negligently. "I see no reason for this encounter to come to blows, Commander McCloud. I'm here at the request of my boss to learn a few techniques, that's all. Don't you think we can all work together like good little boys and girls?"

Fox bared his canines and snarled viciously, dropping into a predator's crouch. Nursing the last few sips of his beer in the kitchen, Wolf rolled his eyes and ambled toward them. "Will you guys give it a rest already? I remember when, once upon a time, you were all bent out of shape when I showed up here. Now we kick back, throw back a couple beers, and trade blows like we're brothers. Give it a rest. We've got bigger fish to fry."

That was the last of the conflict that came Leon's way; aside from the malicious glares that Fox shot his way at every possible opportunity, Leon incurred no real problems for the rest of the afternoon. He took his turn battling Mewtwo in a one on one setting, proving just as tough as Wolf when it came to facing physical blows but much more resilient in his mental defenses. If they could keep him under control, Mewtwo supposed, Leon would make quite a useful ally for the war that was coming.

At breakfast, Sonic had told them in passing that he had made two phone calls before calling it a night and that both of his comrades would be showing up sometime later in the day. They had made the journey together, it seemed, for they dashed into the backyard around four o' clock in companionable silence.

The first was a midnight- and ruby-quilled hedgehog with a build almost identical to Sonic's; he was a little taller and carried a bit more muscle on his body, but he still possessed the same lean runner's build. His eyes were a dark crimson that were not at all like Wesker's; they were more like burnt cinnamon, warm and strong.

**NEWCOMER: SHADOW**

_(2001 Sonic Adventure 2, 2002 Sonic Adventure 2 Battle, 2004 Sonic Heroes, 2005 Shadow the Hedgehog, 2006 Sonic the Hedgehog, 2008 Sonic Chronicles, 2009 Sonic and the Black Knight)_

The second had white quills that sparkled like silver crystals in the sunlight, and was the most slender of the three hedgehogs present. He didn't wear running shoes like his two fellows did, but knee-high boots of a handsome sky blue color. They could sense right away that he possessed unnatural powers in much the same way that Mewtwo and Lucario did, and it was in those abilities that he seemed to rely. He was slower than both Sonic and Shadow, but it was apparent right away that in a fight, that wouldn't matter. His eyes were golden, like Legato's, but possessed a kindness that Legato's could never match.

**NEWCOMER: SILVER**

_(2006 Sonic the Hedgehog, 2006 Sonic Rivals)_

Sonic dashed over right away to shake hands with both of them, smiling jovially and embracing them both like dear old friends. Shadow shook hands with him readily enough but barely seemed to tolerate being in close proximity to him; Silver kept his face impassive, his eyes scanning the onlookers feverishly. Lingering on the other side of the backyard, chatting amicably with Midna, Pit, and Yami, Blaze met his gaze and nearly swooned for the ground.

"What's with her?" Marth muttered, nudging Wolf in the ribs and cocking his head in Blaze's direction; her eyes were overbright with emotion, and a blush had risen in her cheeks.

Wolf shrugged. "You got me. Maybe she's in heat."

Marth choked on his own saliva and dissolved into a hacking fit, and Wolf might have joined him, were it not for what happened next. Silver broke out of Sonic's arms and sprinted the length of the yard, his face radiant, and swept Blaze into his arms, spinning her around and around in circles before crushing her to his chest. They all half-expected Blaze to incinerate him – she despised most forms of physical contact – but she surprised them all by wrapping her arms tightly around him and squeezing him back just as tightly.

"I had no idea I was supposed to expect you!" Blaze exclaimed, pulling back so she could look him in the eye; her smile took in her ears.

Silver ruffled the fur on the top of her head lovingly, crooked another smile, and murmured, "Yeah, I'm just full of surprises."

Marth glanced at Wolf, whose mouth was agape with shock, and walked away howling with laughter.

Shadow, as it turned out, was very strong against both physical and mental psychic attacks. He was every bit as fast as Sonic, making him nearly impossible to hit, and his willpower was like iron. Mewtwo had a difficult time contesting his willpower, and an even tougher time infiltrating his mind; it was doable, but it was no picnic.

Silver, on the other hand, was perhaps Mewtwo's toughest opponent of the day. He wasn't as fast as Sonic and Shadow, but in the end it didn't matter – he was a psycho-kinetist himself, and possessed more than a fair share of talent in his craft. He gave Mewtwo a run for his money as far as physical psychic attacks were concerned, but he proved unbeatable in a battle of willpower. His mind was perhaps more complex than Yami's, and as impenetrable as the strongest fortress.

All in all, as night began to fall and they hunkered down together, their spirits had been lifted.

But none of them were foolish enough to believe that one day's worth of training would save them.

* * *

><p>It was a long journey to the land that Lance called Johto, but it was neither treacherous nor uncomfortable. Vick relaxed the entire way lounging leisurely on Dragonite's wide back behind Lance, rolling the small black sphere in which Lucario had agreed to travel guiltily in her hands. Dragonite never slowed, beating its great wings tirelessly, and they dipped above and below the few scattered white clouds with ease for about six hours before the loyal beast landed upon solid ground. Lance slid expertly off Dragonite's back and politely reached a hand back for Vick; she accepted it and let him guide her gently to the ground, and then she took a look around.<p>

The place Lance had brought them to was nothing short of lovely. They stood at the crest of a gently sloping hill covered in wildflowers of all colors, one of many such hills that were gradually separated by a winding stream that washed over smooth stones with a tranquil, soothing sound. The sun was just past its zenith and the breeze was light, a serene late spring day in a perfect meadow just south of the sheer face of a plateau. What lay beyond the plateau, Vick could only guess.

As Vick took in her new surroundings Lance took the ball from her hands and released Lucario; the Aura Guardian materialized back into his familiar form, and promptly shuddered delicately. _That was decidedly unpleasant._

Lance secured the ball upon his belt, a little sadly, it seemed. "I chose this Luxury Ball specifically for your transportation. It is the most comfortable method of storing Pokemon."

Lucario was quick to placate Lance when he saw the man's face fall; he dropped one paw down upon Lance's shoulder bracingly when he said, _And I'm sure it is. But I have spent my entire life free, and have never once experienced captivity. I meant no disrespect._

Their conversation was interrupted when Vick took a step forward into the lovely meadow, bringing her closer to the tall grasses scattered throughout the wildflowers. Lance seemed to be watching her rather protectively. "Stop."

Vick whirled back to face the two of them, looking harassed. "What?"

Lance's face was stern; he squared his body in her direction and folded his arms adamantly. "What did I teach you before I agreed to bring you out here? What did I say?"

It was interesting, Lucario thought, to watch Vick and Lance interact; Vick was a very independent and opinionated woman who didn't normally heed the suggestions of others, and Lance was, by nature, rather quiet and withdrawn. It was curious to see Vick taking orders from someone, and Lance being unyielding. Finally, Vick sighed and answered, "Not to go into the grass without a Pokemon."

"And why did I tell you to do that?" It was like watching a father scold his daughter, thought Lucario bemusedly, but there was something else in Lance's eyes that made him think otherwise.

Vick was beginning to look irritated. "Because if one attacks me, I can't defend myself. So why did you even bring me out here? You knew I didn't have a Pokemon. You knew I wouldn't be able to defend myself. So there's no way I can catch my own wild Pokemon. This was a waste of time."

The left side of Lance's mouth turned up slightly; he was trying to hide a smile. "It hasn't been a waste of time, Victoria—"

"Vick."

"—Because I am about to give you your first Pokemon."

Vick's teeth audibly clacked together. Lucario snickered softly to himself, and wisely wandered the opposite direction when she snapped her icy glare upon him. Lance detached three Poke Balls from his belt as he closed the distance between them, and laid them on a springy patch of grass at her feet before unlacing his cape and sitting cross-legged upon it. He patted the black material beside him, and Vick sat, looking quite nervous now.

"It is tradition for a beginning Pokemon Trainer to choose his or her very first Pokemon from among one Grass-type, one Water-type, and one Fire-type," Lance explained. "To that tradition I have adhered, but I have not selected the same Pokemon that most mentors generally set aside for their protégés. Instead, I tried to select three that would suit you, instead of something more, shall we say, generic. You only need to touch the button in the center of each ball to see what is inside."

Vick reached one slightly-trembling hand toward the ball on the far left and touched the button in the center; it burst open, and the beam of crimson light that emitted from within materialized into a small plantlike creature with the bud of a ready-to-bloom flower upon its head. Vick's hands flew up to her mouth to stifle a gasp, and Lucario could easily see why—the creature was easily the most adorable thing he had ever seen.

"Budew," said Lance, reaching out to stroke his hand gently over the swollen bulb upon the creature's head. Budew cooed appreciatively and nuzzled his fingers. "A Grass-type Pokemon I obtained while traveling through the Sinnoh region not long ago. It possesses a very mild nature and is very carefree."

Vick chose not to linger—which was wise, because just looking at Budew made her want to choose it without even regarding the other two—and touched the tip of her index finger to the button on the ball in the center. It burst into the shape of a blue-bodied, mouse-like creature, with a pouty face and a long, disjointed black tail with an oversized fleshy blue sphere attached to the end.

"Azurill. A Water-type given to me by a friend while I was passing through one of Hoenn's cities a few years past. It will grow quickly under your care, but it will be weak until its first evolution; after that, it will be quite strong. It is quite temperamental, but it bonds very quickly to its Trainer."

The last Poke Ball erupted into a fox-creature with a tan body, six short auburn-haired tails, and very keen, intelligent eyes. It was almost breathtakingly beautiful.

"Vulpix," said Lance. "A Fire-type Pokemon that I rescued from a much larger and stronger Pokemon while journeying between cities in Kanto. Unlike Budew and Azurill, Vulpix will only evolve further when exposed to a certain stone. Despite being incredibly proud, Vulpix are unwaveringly loyal creatures."

Lance had honestly expected Vick to take a great deal of time deliberating which Pokemon to choose – after all, he had prepared an amazing lineup for her to choose from, and any trainer with an inkling of Pokemon knowledge would know that the ones Lance had offered to her were both extraordinary and rare. Looking on from a distance, Lucario's eyes were wide with astonishment. Vick was smiling triumphantly.

"Proud and loyal," she murmured appreciatively. "Just like me." And she reached out and patted the Vulpix timidly on the head. "I pick this one."

Lance smiled, nodded once, and returned the other two Pokemon to the capsule systems within the Poke Balls, regaining his feet at once. Vick scrambled to join him, and when she had he swept his cape off the ground and pinned it back into place, waving his arm out in front of him to indicate the beautiful flower meadow interspersed with patches of grass.

"Now," he began, "we must get started. Do you remember what you must do?"

Vick bobbed her head once energetically. She had listened to Lance with earnest when he had described Pokemon catching strategies during the flight to Johto, and every word he had said was still fresh in her memory. Lance looked pleased, and so with Vulpix tagging along at her heels she took her first tentative step into the meadow.

Lucario moved up to Lance's side, shooting a glance at the Dragon Master out of the corner of his eye; Lance's entire body was taut as a rubber band poised to snap, his expression overprotective. Lucario focused his thoughts so that only Lance could hear. _You know a great deal about Pokemon training. Just how long have you been involved in this lifestyle?_

Lance didn't take his eyes off Vick's back, but his expression clouded. He looked distinctly uncomfortable, but he answered Lucario in an undertone nonetheless. "Fourteen years."

_Impressive._ Lucario paused, just long enough for the Dragon Master to believe that the conversation was at its end, and then added, _As I understand it, Gym Leaders, Elite Four members, and League Champions are the only trainers that could possibly match your caliber._

This time Lance did not answer, but Lucario wasn't about to let the man evade him. _You can fool the others, but Mewtwo and I have already guessed the truth. There is far more to you than meets to eye. You are stronger than any of us in your own way, and even more deceptive than our enemies. I know what you are._

"Now is not the time for this," Lance hissed through gritted teeth, his face reddening in anger. "With all that we now face, the truth of my identity should not be called into question now."

Lucario couldn't refute Lance's logic, so he bit his tongue, so to speak. Still, watching Vick pick her way carefully through a floral carpet of bluebells, the Aura Guardian couldn't help but feel protective as well. Already, it seemed, Vick had formed some sort of bond with Lance that was altogether different than the relationships she had with the rest of the Brawlers – just as strong but perhaps of a different depth. Lance was a good man who was every bit as benevolent as the rest of them – not to mention that he was just as dedicated to keeping Vick safe from their adversaries – but Lance was keeping secrets from them all and that made Lucario uneasy. Still, Lance was right – the battle with Legato and Wesker was still on their horizon, and when compared with Lance's lack of truth, that was more important.

Vick was just moving into a patch of wild white daisies when something moved in front of her, and tripping backward a step she encountered her very first wild Pokemon.

It looked something like a raccoon, with a round, furry little body and keen ears, but its most impressive feature was its tail. It was longer than the rest of its body combined and must have been very strong, because it balanced upon it in order to face her above the tall grasses. Falco had updated the scouter he had given her when they had been out storm chasing the day before to include software that Lance insisted she needed – he had called it a Pokedex – and scanned the wild creature with it; the word SENTRET flashed across the miniscule viewfinder, along with an extensive readout of information, but at that moment the creature darted toward her and she called for Vulpix.

The fox-like Vulpix dashed in front of its new master with a ferocious keening, stopping the wild Sentret in its tracks; they squared off, baring teeth at one another, and Vick studied the tightening of Sentret's muscles with an eye of experience that no newcomer Lance had ever seen possessed. "Vulpix, tackle!"

Her Pokemon obeyed without paused, launching itself ahead and charging wildly at the Sentret, knocking it backward a few feet and sending it rolling. Vick unclipped a Poke Ball from her belt and prayed that she was a decent throw as she tossed the spherical object at the Sentret like an inexperienced softball player.

It very nearly missed its target – thankfully it struck the tip of Sentret's fluffy tail, and that was successful enough for the sophisticated capsule system. A beam of ruby light lanced out from the center of the ball and drew the Sentret into the sphere before rolling into a small patch of yellow million bells; the Poke Ball wiggled in place a bit as the Sentret fought against its confinement, and then grew still as the Pokemon succumbed to its prison.

For a moment, Vick forgot she wasn't alone; she danced in a circle in the field of wildflowers with her arms thrown jubilantly over her head, and when she caught sight of the two onlookers she settled her hands on her shapely hips and fixed them with an icy glare. "If you laugh, I'll tell everyone I know that you're horrible in bed."

_I'm sure they'd all believe you,_ chuckled Lucario good-naturedly, and beside him, Lance blushed violently.

They spent another hour in the meadow, watching Vick become acquainted with Vulpix and attempt to catch more Pokemon for her team. In the course of the hour she also managed to catch a baby-sheep Pokemon called Mareep, whose fleece danced with weak electrical charges, and a cotton-spore Pokemon named Hoppip, who danced upon the light breeze like a wayward leaf. She had four occupied Poke Balls upon her belt when they mounted Dragonite's back for the return trip, and seemed quite pleased with herself.

Lucario waited all afternoon for Lance to confess the true nature of his talent to Vick, but the Dragon Master never said a word.

* * *

><p>Vick, Lucario, and Lance arrived back at Brawlers Mansion just as the others were finishing the dinner Kirby had prepared for them, which was fortunate, as all three of them had skipped lunch. They each filled their plates twice, and when they were on their second helping and the others had diligently finished cleaning up the kitchen to help Kirby, Link stood up from the armchair he had been seated in and faced them. It became silent in the sitting room very quickly, aside from the sound of the three who were still chewing earnestly.<p>

"I know you all think of me as the unofficial leader here, since it was my idea from the start for us all to spend our summer here," Link began, looking a little uncomfortable at the prospect of saying these words. "But I don't think I'm really the one to lay battle plans tonight. The one you should really be listening to, the one who knows better than anyone else here what we're about to be facing… is Mewtwo."

Link glanced to the couch, where Mewtwo was sitting with his paws upon Lucario's shoulders, and Mewtwo nodded once in acquiescence. The psychic Pokemon stood and captured each one of them with his eyes before he started to speak.

_You all worked very hard today,_ he began, looking as proud as they had ever seen him, _and I believe we have all taken steps in the right direction, toward taking down our enemies. Their powers are significant, and I believe that they will underestimate us. There is strength in numbers, whether or not you realize it and whether or not our adversaries believe it. I have thought a great deal about how best we should proceed, and I think I have formulated a plan. Their target, I'm sure we can all agree, is Victoria._

There was silence as they all glanced to the middle of the room, where Vick was sitting cross-legged bent over her dinner plate; she chose not to look up to acknowledge them and did her best to appear unconcerned, but there was a small crease between her eyebrows that made her appear not-so-composed. Mewtwo cleared his throat to regain their attentions, but Pit cut across him.

"Why?" he squeaked, his face pale and ashen. "Why would they go after her? She has no power – no obvious talents to speak of. How could she possibly threaten them?"

"Gee thanks," Vick responded sarcastically.

Mewtwo just rolled his eyes; some of the others were shaking their heads disdainfully. _She overheard them at The Shadow last night. She has the power to expose their plans. Their first priority now will be to eliminate her. Now, then…_

_Legato and Wesker will undoubtedly attack together – they would not surrender any advantage just to be stealthy. My heart tells me that their assault will be a frontal one, and that they will be swift and merciless. I also believe that staying within the walls of the mansion is a foolish idea – there are too many of us, and we will need room to maneuver in order to gain the advantage over them. I propose that we move into the backyard when we are finished here, and put our backs to the forest; that way, if it seems that we will lose, we can disengage and flee into the woods. Even they will have a difficult time tracking us all down in the dark, and the confusion._

He broke off to read their faces, to gauge how this suggestion would be received; several of them were staring back at him, blank-faced and unsure.

_I second that,_ spoke up Lucario, a steely glint in his eyes.

"Third," barked Wolf gruffly.

"Fourth," Fox put in quietly.

"I think we're unanimous on this," Link interrupted, to save them valuable time, and Mewtwo was grateful. "We're following your judgment on this one, Mewtwo; just go ahead and tell us what to do and we'll follow you."

Mewtwo nodded and continued. _I've split us up into three factions – the physical assault, the mental assault, and the last resort. The first line – the line nearest to the house – will be the physical assault; your job is to focus on Wesker. Those of you who proved weaker against my psychic abilities – Pit, Wolf, Fox, Marth, Link, Lance, and Meta Knight – , it will be your job to repel Wesker with your strength._

_The second line will be the mental assault; you will be devoting your abilities to battling Legato Bluesummers. I believe that if those of you in the second line stick together and pool your incredible gifts, you can wear him down. Blaze, Midna, Falco, Sonic, Shadow, and Leon – that task will be left to you._

It was here that Mewtwo hesitated before continuing. A sinking feeling descended into every stomach. _The rest of you have perhaps the most dangerous task of all… it is your job to personally guard Victoria._

At last, Vick raised her head to argue. "No."

_Why do you argue?_ asked Mewtwo, a little put out. _I assure you that I have given you the best possible protection._

"I don't doubt that," Vick snapped defiantly. "But I don't want anyone guarding me. You said they're after me, right? Then let them come after me. I'm not gonna let any of you risk your lives for me."

She spoke these words with such passion and determination that more than one eye got a little misty at the truth and conviction of her statement. Of course, the sentimentality did not dissuade any of them.

"You'll shut your damn mouth and let Mewtwo give you all the protection he wants," Wolf growled, baring his canines in a combination of anger and affection. "If he wants to call in the army, the navy, air force, marines, unicorns with flamethrowers, what the fuck ever – you'll quit complaining and deal with it. We all knew what we signed on for and none of us is backing down now."

Vick cast her eyes around, taking all of them in. Every single face was determined and unyielding. It was the first moment she realized that they would all gladly die for her if the need arose.

_As I was saying,_ Mewtwo continued smoothly, as though nothing had interrupted him. _The last resort line will not be joined in the fighting right away. It is your job to guard Victoria in the event that the other lines fail. Kirby, Yami, Silver, Lucario, and I will see to this task._ He looked upon his four comrades grimly. _Lucario and I will attack together, physically or mentally as the need arises. You other three will fall back and take Victoria with you. If the two of us are defeated, Yami, then it will be your turn; Legato Bluesummers will wander lost in the labyrinth of your mind long enough to allow Kirby and Silver to put distance between him and Vick. Kirby, you will act next. Your mind does not work like the rest of ours do – if it should be that Legato navigates Yami's defenses, he shouldn't be able to penetrate yours at all. _Mewtwo heaved a sigh and glanced to his left, where Silver was seated on the loveseat with his arm casually slung around Blaze's shoulders. _Silver… Your job is to take Victoria and run with her, as far and as fast as you can. You will not stop for any threat unless it places her life in danger. I… believe you are the only one among us who has the ability to combat Legato on even terms._

Silver nodded solemnly and did not argue. Vick had never felt so guilty in all of her life – even people she barely knew were putting their lives on the line, all because of her. She wanted to disappear, just to ensure that no harm ever came to them. She wanted to walk willingly into the arms of their enemies, and spare the lives of her friends. She would take death with a smile in exchange for their safety.

_Very good,_ murmured Mewtwo. _Let us relocate._

Quite suddenly, Vick was surrounded with scenes of farewell. Silver tugged Blaze off the loveseat, embraced her briefly, and kissed her hand. Wolf crushed Fox to his chest and planted a swift kiss to his forehead before shaking Falco's hand. Lucario and Mewtwo were staring into one another's eyes, their fingers linked as they engaged in silent conversation. Sonic was clinging to Shadow, and the black-quilled hedgehog was resolutely allowing the physical contact between them to linger. Link and Pit bumped their fists together, and Marth and Meta Knight crossed swords. Lance took her in his arms, not moving or speaking, warming her chilled body with his own and trying to hide the trembling in his arms.

Then every single one of them embraced her, and they all exited the house together.

* * *

><p>Outside it was intolerably warm, and quieter than a tomb. Thankfully, they didn't have long to wait.<p>

Two figures blacker than the surrounding landscape circled the mansion, one on either side of the multi-story structure, and slunk stealthily into the backyard and into their midst. The members of Mewtwo's first line readied their weapons – swords, technologically advanced firearms, a gleaming bow that had been detached from a motorcycle and a flashing red and white sphere.

"Boys," murmured Link, hefting the Master Sword a few inches higher at the sight of the moonlight glinting off Wesker's black lenses, "it's been a hell of a lot of fun."

But Wesker wasn't interested in pausing to deal with them. He halted just a few feet away, every single one of his teeth bared in a sinister smile, and said, "I'm here for the girl."

"You're a sick son of a bitch," Wolf snarled, spinning twin laser pistols up into a ready position. "And you're not getting anywhere near Vick as long as we're still breathing."

"Fair enough." Wesker ended with a shrug, another cruel grin, and a glance to his side where Legato was waiting. The telepath took a small step that put him in front of Wesker, and smiled at them.

The trajectories of every man's weapon changed course.

"Trouble," growled Shadow to the other members of the second line. They were standing about a hundred yards from the tree line, preparing to strike or to fall back as the need arose.

"What is it?" Falco shot back, squinting against the gloom.

"Either every single one of your friends is contemplating betrayal at coincidentally the same time," mused Leon, "or Legato Bluesummers is a far stronger telepath than any of us might have guessed."

"What?!" Falco leapt from his place in the line, his eyes a frenzy of anxiety and terror, but Sonic cut in front of him with his superior speed and threw out an arm.

"Don't," Sonic growled, his face grim. "Remember the plan. Don't you dare leave this line."

Marth stared down the blazing azure arrow that was notched in the bow of Palutena's emissary, as at the same moment he struggled against the foreign impulse to skewer Meta Knight with Falchion's blade. Lance's arm was cocked back and trembling, ready to throw the Poke Ball clutched in his dominant hand Link's way, and Wolf and Fox had each other in their sights.

"What madness is this?!" cried Meta Knight, resisting with all his might the silent voice in his mind that demanded he run Lance through. "What have you done, you treacherous tyrant?!"

_All of your minds are hopeless and feeble,_ Legato murmured into the minds of every single man standing on the front line. _You were foolish to think you could stand against me and live to see the light of another sunrise._

The tenuous bonds of fragile willpower that they clung to seemed to evaporate like dew on a hot day, and the moment Legato snickered beneath his breath, they all struck out at one another. Their cries echoed off the sheer cliffs on the other side of the lake; lingering near the tree line, in the well-protected center of the last line, Vick strained against the arms that kept her rooted to the spot.

"Let me go!" she cried, thrashing even as Yami and Silver dragged her back a few steps. "It's me they want, don't you see?! Let me go, I'm not worth this!"

No one spoke a word in response – except Wesker, who could hear her voice even across the great distance, and cocked an ear in her direction. "The girl is here."

"Leave her." Wesker paused, his muscles tensed as he readied to spring, and glared at Legato as the telepath turned his back on the carnage he had just wrecked. "We are not here for her – we are here to destroy these foolish boys who would dare stand against us. We are here on business."

Wesker chuckled and shook his head. "You are here on business," he corrected. "I am here for sport."

He broke away from Legato then with the swiftness and sureness of a bullet being jettisoned from a gun, not even slowing when his boots squelched through the blood of the men Legato had taken down. The moment he moved, Sonic and Shadow drew closer together and took on defensive crouches, thrusting their arms out to keep the others behind them.

"What's happening?!" shrieked Midna, clutching at Shadow's arm.

"He's coming!" hissed Blaze, and turning back she shouted at the final line of resistance, "Get Vick out of here! Wesker is after her!"

Those were the only words that anyone on the second line would speak, for at that moment Wesker descended upon them as though borne upon the wings of death; a strike each put Midna, and Falco down, leaving Blaze, Sonic, Shadow, and Leon Powalski to hold him at bay.

_You heard her,_ Lucario told his companions with a grimace. _Take Victoria and go._

"What about you?!" demanded Yami, for it was impossible not to notice the determined way that Lucario and Mewtwo were now looking toward the failing second line. "Aren't you coming?"

Mewtwo shook his head an infinitesimal amount as he and Lucario started forward. _We will help keep them back. You four go on._

"No," Vick whimpered, her struggles renewed as she reached for Lucario. "Don't do this."

_Go with them, Victoria._ Lucario glanced back and offered her the eyes-only smile that had always warmed her heart – had it really only been a couple of weeks? _I will see you again._

Kirby and Silver lingered just within the trees, hands outstretched, waiting; tears flowed freely from Vick's eyes as Yami clamped one hand down upon her forearm and dragged her backward.

_GO! _Lucario commanded, and seizing Mewtwo's arm the two dashed toward the ailing second line.

"Take her!" Yami growled, his eyes fixed upon Silver, but the silver-quilled hedgehog was staring, transfixed, back to the east where the fighting had joined.

"Blaze," they heard him mumble, and at his sides, his fists tightened.

Yami grabbed Silver roughly at the shoulder and hauled him around, forcing him to make eye contact. "You agreed to abide by Mewtwo's plan!" he shouted, still holding Vick at bay despite her struggles. "You are our last defense! Do NOT desert us!"

But Silver's mind was made up; he glanced past Yami to Vick, whose face was still streaked with tears. "I'm sorry," he told her, and his voice sounded quite sorrowful. "I'm so sorry, but I can't leave her. Please understand. I wish you the best."

And he dashed away from them and back toward the carnage without a backward look, Kirby chattering angrily at his back.

* * *

><p>After an indecipherable period of time, Wolf managed to open his eyes. It was still dark, he found, and he immediately discerned that the sounds of battle were all around him. So he hadn't been under long. Good.<p>

It took nearly all the effort he could muster, but somehow Wolf lifted his head and took a look around. The sight sent his heart plummeting – the other members of his line were collapsed lifelessly in the grass, the pools of their blood shining black in the moonlight. His own wound, a still-smoking hole through his torso that had miraculously missed his heart, seeped blood at even the smallest movement.

"What else is new?" he sighed, wincing at the pain that shot through his chest, and retrieving his two fallen laser pistols he hauled himself upright.

The attention was no longer on the first line – everyone probably assumed they had all died, and perhaps some of them had – but on the second; Sonic, Shadow, Blaze, Leon, Mewtwo, and Lucario had engaged in battle with Legato and Wesker. Vick was nowhere to be seen; Wolf did something he hadn't done since childhood, and crossed himself while muttering a hurried thanks to the powers that be.

Legato, it seemed, was attempting to wreck havoc on the others – at odd intervals in the battle one of them would point a weapon at a friend, or find their feet lifted from the ground – but the effect never lasted, and it seemed clear why. With Lucario and Mewtwo in the fray now, they had enough mental prowess to put a stop to Legato's plans before they could come to fruition. Legato's scowl deepened with every passing second.

The battle against Wesker was what was taxing them.

Wesker proved to be every bit as fast as Sonic or Shadow, and frequently proved it by dashing to the other end of the battlefield to strike out at a completely different target. Leon found out the hard way that Wesker was indeed armed; his dominant arm was limp at his side and he was wielding the largest knife in his arsenal one-handed. Sonic appeared heavily bruised.

Wolf broke into a run, ignoring the odd fibrillations of his heart as he did so.

Wesker disappeared, reappeared behind Shadow, and drove his elbow down into the vulnerable spot at the base of the black hedgehog's skull; despite his considerable speed, Shadow couldn't hope to dodge the attack at close range. A resounding _crack_ rose above the din of battle, and Shadow swooned forward, his eyes fluttering. Predictably Sonic stopped what he was doing and lunged toward Shadow, catching the slightly larger hedgehog in his arms before he hit the ground and lowering him gently, calling out his name –

Sensing vulnerability Wesker dashed in, whipping out a nine millimeter Beretta as he went, his movements all a blur; Blaze cut in front of the two exposed hedgehogs and flung out her arms, exacting a wall of fire precisely between her and Wesker. The flames were so intense that Wesker actually flinched back, and his first bullet melted when its trajectory took it through the inferno.

Wolf pumped his legs faster, chest heaving, wheezing with every shaky breath.

Wesker fired again, his second bullet surviving the flames and whistling past Blaze's left ear; the sound was frightening enough to jar her concentration, and the wall of flames disappeared in a wisp of smoke. Blaze shrank back as Wesker stalked forward, a devious smirk curling up the corner of his lips and his finger squeezing the trigger –

At the same moment Silver came streaking toward them, shrieking Blaze's name, Wolf tensed his legs and lunged.

The gunshot cracked through the air, reverberating off the nearby cliffs; Blaze gasped in shock, and Wolf thudded to the ground without so much as a moan. Silver leapt upon Wesker with an enraged snarl, but Blaze dropped down to her knees, her hands hovering uncertainly over Wolf.

The bullet had pierced the right side of his torso, just below his breast; Wolf was eerily still, and did not respond when she called out his name.

"Stay with him!" Sonic barked at Blaze, and leaving Shadow in her care he charged Wesker at full speed. As he and Silver danced around Wesker, trading blows, the sapphire-quilled hedgehog snapped, "What the hell do you think you're doing?! You're supposed to be with Vick!"

Silver's eyes were wide with fear; every few seconds they darted in Blaze's direction, as though to make sure she was still safe. "I couldn't leave Blaze!"

"You damned, stupid…" And though every muscle in his body willed him to stand and fight, Sonic dragged himself away from the battle and streaked off to the west.

Nearby, Mewtwo and Lucario were readying an Aura Sphere and a psychic pulse, respectively, when their bodies froze at the suggestion of an outside influence. They stared at one another in horror as they turned to face each other, energies pushing to maximum. Legato watched them silently pleading with each other, knowing that it was all a meaningless effort.

_Fight him, Lucario,_ gasped Mewtwo, struggling with his own inner demons. _Listen to my voice. You don't want to do this. Fight him!_

But Lucario was too far gone to take any solace from Mewtwo's voice; eyes glittering strangely he loosed the Aura Sphere in Mewtwo's direction. Frozen as he was, Mewtwo's only defense would be to launch his own bundle of psychic energy in retaliation – but there was always the chance that it would incinerate the Aura Sphere and strike Lucario, and that was not a risk Mewtwo was willing to take. Instead he dispelled the psychic energy with the last grain of his willpower and closed his eyes as the Aura Sphere struck him head on.

Leon Powalski was next, unassumingly approaching Wesker from behind when Lucario attacked him as well. And though Blaze pleaded with him to see reason, for she was cowering on the ground protecting Shadow and Wolf and posed no threat to him, Lucario was incapable of processing her voice at all when he silenced her too. Standing alone against Wesker, Silver proved all too easy to eliminate also.

Legato rounded on Lucario, the mind slave he had used to dispatch the rest of the second line and part of the third, and muttered a sinister "Thank you for your assistance" before crushing Lucario's mind with barely a thought and tossing him remorselessly to the ground.

Wesker turned and ran, his eyes on the not-so-distant trees.

* * *

><p>Vick finally succeeded in tearing her arm free of Yami's grip, but instead of turning back the way they had come she merely leaned against a nearby tree as she sucked in breath after ragged breath. By the feeble light of the moon filtering through the closely-growing trees Yami and Kirby could clearly see the silver tear tracks beneath both of her eyes. Against his better judgment Yami returned to her side and placed a comforting hand upon her shoulder, his chest heaving with exertion; Kirby leapt up into Vick's arms, huddling against her chest, his accelerated heart rate thudding against her collarbone.<p>

"I don't hear them coming," Yami dared to whisper, his voice pitched so low that Vick had to cock her ear an inch or two nearer to his lips just to pick up the words. "Maybe the others succeeded in keeping them at bay…?"

Kirby chattered brokenly in response, still gasping for breath, and though neither of them spoke his strange language Vick somehow discerned his meaning: "We should still be running."

"In a minute," Vick murmured, her voice a dry rasp. "Let's all catch our breath."

"No," hissed Yami, tightening his grip on her shoulder and dragging her away from the tree a step. "Now."

Vick glanced up, and felt her blood turn to ice; Legato Bluesummers was melting through the trees. Even as he set his sights on them, Kirby waved one of his stubby pink arms toward the pair of them, indicating that they should continue on without him. Yami nodded tersely, and seizing Vick's wrist again he turned and fled.

Legato paused, smiling down at the diminutive pink creature that barred his path. "You know, it really makes no difference how far you run with the girl. She is not my concern and never has been. It is Wesker who wishes to use her for his perverse ends, not I… my only aim is to utterly destroy all of you, down to the very last insignificant life form."

Then he stabbed forward with his mental influence, expecting to dispatch his quarry with ease.

It was like punching a wall of steel.

Legato's indulgent smile disappeared and he recoiled, snarling down at Kirby in confusion and irritation. The Dreamlandian simply glared back at him, looking as threatening as a plump pink marshmallow possibly could, silently daring Legato to try again. Legato threw more of himself behind his second mental blast, desperately seeking an opening, but the force of the strike gained him nothing; it was as though Kirby's mind simply did not function on the same wavelength as other living creatures.

"What manner of creature are you?!" snarled Legato, reaching out with his considerable psycho-kinetic abilities and struggling to form a link between the two of them. "What sort of power grants you the ability to defy me?!"

Kirby's face twisted into a positively adorable mask of confusion; in truth, he was not opposing Legato in the slightest. His mind happened to be thinking of chocolate when Legato attacked him the first time, and he was trying to recall all the locations of the chocolate he had stashed around the mansion when Legato's second attack had failed to find its mark. Now Kirby simply could not fathom why Legato was yelling at him; after all, the last time he had checked, daydreaming about tasty treats hadn't been against the law.

Legato howled and loosed a white ball of pure psycho-kinetic energy from his hand, flinging it toward Kirby with reckless abandon. "Speak, you inferior wretch!"

Suddenly, Kirby grinned broadly. The orb hurtling toward him at such a dangerous velocity could easily be mistaken for a blob of white chocolate, for all he knew! He opened his mouth, unhinged his jaw, and prepared to swallow it whole, hoping all the while that there were macadamia nuts in the center.

Legato was positively dumbfounded when Kirby clamped his mouth closed around the psycho-kinetic orb – which contained no small amount of energy! - , chewed it thoughtfully for a moment, and then swallowed easily. Did Kirby really look disappointed? How was it possible that the small pink creature hadn't exploded? Legato's vision was just beginning to take on a reddish tint when Wesker materialized at Kirby's back and landed a blow to the back of his head that rendered him unconscious; Wesker's ruby eyes gleamed disapprovingly behind the black lenses he wore. "You waste our time. The girl is escaping."

Legato rolled his eyes. "Let her, for all I care. My errand is almost complete. There remains but one of these Brawlers left to be eliminated – "

At that moment a streak of blue flashed past them both, tearing through the trees, and Legato bit his tongue. Evidently he had neglected to eradicate one other somewhere along the way. Regaining their composure, Wesker and Legato dashed off through the trees in pursuit.

Sonic ran so fast that his leg muscles burned; thankfully, just as he began to slow down, he overtook Vick and Yami and doubled back to meet them. Vick gasped in surprise before flinging her arms around him. "You're alright! Where are – "

But Sonic wouldn't hear a single word; taking advantage of the fact that her arms were already around his neck he hoisted Vick into his arms and ignored her protests as he did so, turning his eyes on Yami. "You know what you've gotta do. I'm the last one."

Yami nodded resolutely once and drew a handful of cards from his Duel Monsters gauntlet, his fingers moving dexterously through the familiar action. Sonic set off at a sprint, his velocity leaving skid marks in the earth. Sensing that his adversaries were drawing near, Yami tossed three cards out of his hand and silently prayed that he could buy Sonic even a minute's worth of time.

Wesker and Legato were met with a curious sight when they burst through the trees and into the moonlight-spattered clearing – four disproportionately large black top hats, each emblazoned with a red-and-yellow question mark.

Wesker gritted his teeth and rounded on Legato. "I do not have time for children's games!"

Legato, too, was frowning at the hats, but for a much different reason. "You'll just have to reconsider your line of thinking – this is a puzzle, and an elaborate one at that. Neither of us will be going anywhere until we solve it."

"Dammit!" growled Wesker, and out of sheer frustration he punched a hole right through the hat that stood middle-left in the line.

The effect was instantaneous, if not totally unexpected – the hat gave way to a massive, masterfully-crafted jar carved into the likeness of a dragon, imprisoning Wesker within its nigh-impregnable walls. Wesker's curses could be heard reverberating within the jar's depths and the impressive structure wobbled uncertainly as he attacked it from the inside, but its construction was impeccably strong and it held fast against the onslaught.

Legato chuckled as he considered the three hats that remained, but he didn't seem at all amused. "So… three hats… and I'm certain that two of them contain particularly nasty traps or some other means of deterring me. And it appears that simple guesswork is the only means of proceeding. How juvenile." Legato's eyes blazed an acidic yellow, and the hat on the far right went up in a puff of smoke –

Empty.

The jar in which Wesker was currently entombed rattled again, cracked a few inches down one side, and finally split open as he battered his way out. Wesker's teeth were bared in fury and he thoughtlessly attacked another of the hats.

The hat on the far left dissolved and a single magenta-backed card fluttered to the ground where it had stood barely a second before. Snarling ferociously, Wesker bent down to retrieve it; on it was etched a picture of an enormous primate, gorging itself sick on a pile of food… the caption read JUST DESSERTS.

The edges of the card that Wesker clutched in his fingertips were suddenly burning through his leather glove and searing his skin with their heat; Wesker cursed and recoiled, but the card refused to be shaken off and clung to his fingers as though glued there. The heat suddenly plummeted to glacial temperatures and Wesker felt himself growing weaker with every passing second; it was as though the card was possessed of some vampiric property, feeding off of his invincibility, sapping his strength for its own –

Barely ten seconds after coming in contact with the card Wesker bellowed in rage and pain and collapsed into the cool grass, facedown and unmoving. Legato scoffed and turned his attention upon the only hat that remained, even as it disappeared and revealed that Yami had been hiding in its depths. Yami held up one hand for Legato to see; secured between two slender fingers was another magenta-backed card, bearing the caption MAGICAL HATS.

"Such trickery," mused Legato, his face mirthless and unimpressed. "You are a far older and wiser entity than your present form suggests, Pharaoh."

A smirk curled up one corner of Yami's lips, just as Legato loosed an orb of psycho-kinetic energy his way.

* * *

><p>In response to Wesker's cry Sonic halted and glanced back; he had put enough distance between them and their enemies that the scream was barely audible, but even at this range Sonic could clearly read the emotions behind the shout: anger, and agony.<p>

"What is it?" Vick whispered, and despite her obvious terror her voice never once quavered.

"He's winning," Sonic breathed in wonder. "Yami's winning."

"What? How in the hell could you possibly know that?"

"Listen," he bade her earnestly, but though they strained their ears to hear Wesker did not cry out again. All around them, the forest was maddeningly quiet. Sonic set Vick on her feet and ensured that she was steady before he disentangled himself from her; his eyes were to the east, where undoubtedly a battle was still unfolding.

"I have to go back there," Sonic said, glancing back at Vick apologetically. "If Yami somehow took down Wesker, or even managed to incapacitate him… This might be our only chance to get rid of them both for good. After what they did to everybody else… I've got to go help Yami. I've got to try."

Vick did not bother to argue; the logic was sound. "What should I do? Should I go with – "

"No!" Sonic exclaimed, his emerald eyes horrified. "Keep heading west, away from the house. I'll find you when it's all over."

Vick couldn't bear another farewell scene; she stumbled away from Sonic and set off again, this time all alone.

Sonic threaded his way back through the trees at full speed, hoping against hope that he wouldn't be too late.

* * *

><p>Yami wasn't a fool; thousands of years of calmly-calculated warfare had honed his mind into a deadly, well-oiled machine. He hadn't been idle, hiding within that hat; he had been implementing the perfect strategy. So the instant Legato loosed his psychic energy, Yami was prepared, and he tossed out a card in his defense. The monster contained within the card materialized the moment the card struck the ground, taking on the likeness of a tall, lithe woman with exotic blue skin and golden hair; she rippled her cloak-like green gown in a circle, intercepting the white orb with the enchanted fabric even as it began to burn slowly through the delicate material –<p>

Yami flung a second card toward her, having anticipated that the creature alone would not be enough to thwart Legato's attacks. A very old tome appeared in the blue elf's hands and she read a flowing incantation from its pages; the moment the phrase was complete the orb rebounded off her gown and swept back the way it had come.

Legato barely had time to dodge out of the way; the orb singed his hair as it sailed by, and felled dozens of trees as it spiraled off behind him. He scowled deeply at the two cards that lay face-up on the forest floor – MYSTICAL ELF and THE BOOK OF SECRET ARTS.

"I'm not about to allow my plans to be thwarted by one imp and his deck of playing cards," swore Legato, and he thrust ahead with every ounce of his mental influence.

Yami held his breath.

Legato gazed around at his new surroundings, awed despite himself. He had expected to come in contact with perhaps the most ironclad mental defenses he had ever encountered – the thought of it had him practically shivering with anticipation. Instead he had infiltrated Yami's mind easily, and Yami had shown no sign of protesting.

Almost as though he was inviting Legato in. And why shouldn't he? The mind Legato now found himself trapped in was more complex than any labyrinth he had ever seen.

Yami materialized at the top of a high stone staircase, at the foot of which Legato stood, looking dumbfounded. "Did you perhaps find a little more than you bargained for, mind thief?"

Legato growled and charged up the staircase toward his quarry, only to find that the steps beneath his feet had vanished; there had never been stairs at all, only empty space. No – there were the stairs, above him! The world had upended itself. Legato careened downward, through the black void, through nothingness. He fell past a small platform and scrabbled to grab hold of it, but Yami appeared on it as if he had been standing there all the while.

"Here, within the recesses of my own mind," Yami confided conspiratorially, "I am stronger than a god."

He finished by stomping the heel of his boot down on the hand that had found a hold, and Legato winced and reflexively released the ledge. His fall resumed, and this time, there was nothing in sight that could save him.

In the reality, Legato forced his eyes to focus, to take in what was happening in the mental world and what was truly transpiring in the physical world. Yami stood still as a statue, his sightless eyes wide as he manipulated the labyrinth to his benefit – the perfect target for Legato Bluesummers, the most talented psycho-kinetist of the age. Perhaps he was losing the mental battle now, but if he destroyed Yami's physical body to the point where his mind could no longer function…

He lifted his hand and, still struggling to expel himself from the labyrinth, painstakingly began to conjure the orb of psychic energy that would claim Yami's life. One false move, he knew, could cost him either his brain or his body.

Yami was dimly aware that something was amiss in the physical world, but he hesitated to drift back into his body's awareness and risk losing the upper hand he had worked so hard to gain. The labyrinth was extensive in size but it did have a bottom, and when Legato's falling mind-self reached it his mind would be broken. The best Legato could hope for from that scenario was to be rendered comatose – the body could not function without the mind, after all. But Legato was planning something in the physical world that would undoubtedly prove fatal, and if he didn't act Legato would utterly destroy his body.

There were two cards left in Yami's hand; he could not wrest focus from his mental self in order to draw more. One of them was a monster card that Legato would have no trouble destroying. The other was a trap card that might just be his salvation. The trouble was, Yami had no way of knowing which was which, and didn't dare glance down to check and risk breaking his own concentration. Just as Legato fired his psychic orb, Yami twitched his index finger and dropped one of the cards to his feet.

The trap card, SPELLBINDING CIRCLE.

A ray of light shot out from the card and wound around Legato's unsuspecting body, pinning his arms to his sides and holding him rooted to the spot; the psychic orb dissolved as his focus was lost, and Legato snapped back into the physical world. In the labyrinth, his mind-body struck the ground with enough force to dent the stone. Legato's mind failed him, and his body fell limp within the clutches of the Spellbinding Circle.

His task complete, Yami reeled back to the awareness of his own body, and swayed backward in his weakened state –

- right into Sonic's arms.

While Sonic murmured rapidly to the exhausted pharaoh, Wesker struggled to his feet and slipped off to the west in the commotion.

* * *

><p>Vick stumbled through the darkness of the woods, scraping her legs raw on the sharp branches of trees jutting out from the trunks that she could barely see. Behind her, Wesker picked his way forward more carefully, and decidedly faster. He was gaining on her, and she could hear him moving through the trees behind her. Akabane watched the spectacle unfold beneath him, skipping gracefully from treetop to treetop.<p>

There were two options, he knew: he could allow this to happen, and turn a blind eye as Wesker abducted the girl and whisked her away to do unspeakable things to her… or he could intervene on the girl's behalf yet again.

He chose the third option – intervene in such a way that no one ever knew he had been involved.

Akabane slipped down to the lower boughs and waited until Vick was only a few yards behind him, and then rustled the leaves of the branch he was perched upon so that she could clearly hear him. She glanced up, startled, but he leapt to the next tree, making an unnecessary amount of noise as he did so, and then to the next; Vick caught the hint quickly enough. She followed.

Though he continued to bait the girl along, Akabane knew almost instantly that this course of action wouldn't work. Vick was swiftly beginning to tire and Wesker was slowly regaining his strength – he would catch up with her in a matter of minutes, and Akabane's efforts would be for naught. At the moment Akabane just didn't feel like battling Wesker – he was rather bored of the man, actually – and was just in the mood to foil Wesker's plans.

He supposed he had one other alternative. He could lead the girl _there_, but the chances she would survive were slim to none.

Fascinating.

Unexpectedly Akabane altered his course, veering suddenly south and into an even thicker copse of trees. Vick followed blindly, hoping against hope that the presence she tailed was not as malicious as the one she ran from. She was oblivious now to the branches as they slashed across her skin, drawing blood, for she could hear Wesker laughing as he closed in on her and was desperate to escape. The entity she followed rustled through the trees overhead, just beyond the range of her eyesight; she splashed through a creek and turned an ankle on one of the smooth stones in the shallow brook, but didn't slow –

There was a string connecting two trees, upon which had been hung crudely-drawn Japanese wards; Akabane stopped just shy of this, recognizing the marker, watching with grim satisfaction as Vick plowed through the wood, beneath the wards, and into a wide-open clearing. Akabane turned his back on her, smiling victoriously, his mission accomplished –

The branch upon which Akabane was standing snapped suddenly, and he dropped unceremoniously from his tree; he reached out one white-gloved hand and snagged the nearest branch, pulling himself up to it before he crossed right into Wesker's path, and cursed when this reflex action brought him to the other side of the warded area. So much for avoiding the same gruesome fate as the girl!

Wesker stopped suddenly, his ears perked up, listening hard. There really was no explanation for what had just happened: one moment he had been hot on Vick's trail, so close that he could see her silvery hair shimmering in the patches of moonlight just ahead of him, and the next she had simply… vanished? The surrounding forest was deathly silent; there were no sounds of a lost person sifting through the trees, or even a breath of wind. It was as though his quarry had completely disappeared. Cursing her trickery, Wesker turned and headed back the way he had come, wondering how Legato had fared against the pharaoh.

Akabane attempted to follow him, but the trees proved completely impassable. Overhead, the Japanese wards waved ominously in a breeze, mocking him.

Vick paid attention to none of these things; she was transfixed by what lay ahead now, and padded cautiously ahead to inspect her new surroundings. The clearing had a dirt floor and was circular-shaped, with a path sloping through barren hills to the east and another curving down through the undergrowth to the west; a small campfire burned near the western-facing pathway, suggesting that perhaps she wasn't as alone as she seemed, but the dominating feature was in the center of the clearing. It was a stack of large, flat stones, arranged like a table and surrounded by five pillars tied off with more wards. Vick had no idea what this could possibly mean, but it was an impressive structure nonetheless.

Glancing beyond the mound and its pillars she glimpsed the larger picture, and she ran around the mound in her terrified awe to get a better look.

The clearing, as it turned out, was really a plateau; standing at the edge of the plateau Vick gazed out at what lay beneath her, scarcely believing her eyes.

A lost village.


	17. The One Where They're All Hospitalized

As exhausted as she was, Vick didn't see any immediate danger in sitting down right where she stood – after all, she had been gaping open-mouthed at the scene below for the last minute and a half, and if Wesker was really still tailing her he would have caught her easily by now. With her legs dangling over the precipice of the plateau Vick surveyed what she had found – a village, situated smack in the middle of nowhere, silent as a tomb and, so far, seemingly devoid of all life.

Several things caught her attention as she scanned the community, and none of them dispelled her uneasiness. For one thing, there didn't seem to be any shops – as far as she could tell the village consisted of a small collection of houses, some multi-storied, and nothing more. For another thing, there didn't appear to be any livestock; tight-knit rural communities often depended on their animals to feed their families, and Vick saw no evidence of that anywhere – no cattle grazing in a nearby pasture, no chickens clucking in their coops, no hogs wallowing. Also, despite the lateness of the hour, not a single light shone in any of the windows – what's more, there were no street lamps, no public fires, no light whatsoever save the campfire that crackled near her left hand. The entire civilization, if one could call it that, was just plain eerie – there were no sounds, no outward sign that anyone dwelled here at all.

Vick glanced back over her shoulder at the neatly-arranged stone slabs centered between stone pillars wrapped with Japanese characters. All of the Japanese that she knew was self-taught and not necessarily accurate, but she was prepared to stake her life on the fact that the characters scrawled on the tags were wards – perhaps warning symbols in nature, or even ritual runes? Likewise, she now glimpsed a row of similar characters strung from two trees like a banner – they were similar, yes, but not exact, which likely meant that they served a separate purpose altogether. Now that she took a closer look, it was impossible not to notice how closely the trees grew together around the clearing… their branches overlapped so often that it was difficult to tell where one tree ended and the next began.

How had she made her way to this place at all? Regardless of the how, it was clear that she wouldn't be going back the way she had come.

Against her better judgment (which shouted for her to stay put precisely where she was), Vick considered her two courses of action. The path on her left side that wound between the sloping hills leading east vanished behind the large grassless mounds, but the path to the west appeared to follow a gentle curve down the side of the plateau and, perhaps, right into the village. It was a very reckless thing to do, Vick knew, but she had to find some way out of here.

Vick stood up, dusting off the seat of her jeans absentmindedly, and wended her way westward toward the boundaries of the village.

* * *

><p>Wedged uncomfortably between two enormous oak trees, Akabane watched Vick vanish down the hill with uncharacteristically wide eyes. Either the girl was far braver than anyone he had ever met, or she was possessed of a level of stupidity that should, by all rights, land her in a psychiatric ward for the rest of her life. Granted, Akabane was fairly certain that Vick had absolutely no idea just what she had stumbled into – otherwise, she would have run screaming into the impossibly thick forest behind her until she bled to death from multiple tree branch lacerations.<p>

But he was familiar with the insidious tale that surrounded this infernal place.

Not just anyone could find All God's Village – supposedly you could only find it if you had been born there, or, curiously, if you stumbled upon it completely by accident. Entire search parties had been dispatched over the past forty years looking for the village and its inhabitants only to return empty-handed, or to wander lost in the wilderness for months and never return. As the story went, All God's Village followed the old Japanese customs and all of its citizens believed that their civilization was centered upon one of the gateways to hell; in order to keep this portal closed, they participated in a forbidden ritual once every ten years or so. Akabane was all too familiar with that particular ritual, an unspeakable rite in which humans were sacrificed, but he preferred not to think about that too much.

"'_Bane, just think… if we perform the ritual… no one will have to hurt anymore."_

Akabane shook his head a little from side to side, chasing the voice from his mind. Now was not the time for reminiscing.

Now certain that the girl had wended her way down the hill and out of sight, Akabane separated himself from the trees and dusted his clothes free of leaves absent-mindedly. There was little point in heading east, despite the fact that it was the quicker road out of the village; that route would take him to the Old Tree, and he recalled that it had been sealed many, many years ago. That left the road east, the same path that Vick had taken; he could take the main road through the village, past House Kiryu, and up the hill to the shrine…

Akabane squared his shoulders and started off after Vick at a leisurely pace, taking solace in the fact that he would not be here long.

* * *

><p>The moon was on the wane by the time Sonic zipped out of the forest, an exhausted Yami cradled in his arms and a dazed Kirby clinging desperately to his back. There was another figure hovering in the center of the battlefield, but Sonic managed to stop Yami from drawing a handful of cards – he recognized Rosalina, even as she uttered a small shriek of terror and knelt down in the grass. Sonic released Yami and coaxed Kirby to the ground before approaching her – he startled her with his speed, and she lifted a thin silver wand in her defense. Her perfect face was streaked with tears.<p>

"How…?" she choked out, her blood-soaked hands hovering over Pit's chest as though she would close the wound herself. "Why…?"

Sonic ignored her questions; at the present, he simply didn't have the time to waste. He put out one hand and clutched one of her narrow shoulders, then gave her a little shake as if to bring her to her senses. "Listen to me – everything's gonna be alright, but I need you to calm down and do exactly what I tell you, alright? Run back in the house and call 911, tell them we have – " Sonic paused and swept his eyes across the battlefield, taking a quick head count of his fallen comrades. " – Fourteen guys out here who are probably all in critical condition and need immediate hospitalization. Get them out here fast – threaten them if you have to! – and then bring me as many towels and sheets as you can carry. Do you know any first aid?"

Rosalina raised her head almost defiantly. "I know quite a lot more than that."

"Excellent. Then make the call and get back out here on the double; it might be down to you to save some lives tonight." Sonic released Rosalina's shoulder and gave her a gentle shove toward the house; in an uncharacteristically unrefined manner she actually kicked off her fine heeled shoes and ran barefoot through the backyard as quickly as she could manage. Sonic found that he was very grateful for her haste.

At that moment, Yami appeared at Sonic's shoulder; he was looking very grim and pale. "Those who were standing on the front line appear to be in the worst condition. A few of the others are semi-conscious; Kirby is seeing to them now." There was a slight pause, and then the pharaoh added, "We may have already lost one."

Sonic whirled to face Yami so quickly that he cricked his neck in the process. "Who?!"

Yami ran a hand down his face. "Wolf."

Sonic struggled to his feet, and might not have made it were it not for the steadying hand that Yami placed on his inner forearm. The extent of the carnage was sickening, unreal – this, Sonic knew, was his worst nightmare realized. The bodies of the men who had been standing on the front line lay torn and bloodied in a twenty foot radius from the point where they stood… and each one of them bore wounds that matched the weapons carried by their own comrades. The tear in Pit's chest matched the blade of Link's Master Sword; Meta Knight had been put down by Marth's sword, Falchion. The light from the radiant arrow sticking out of Marth's side was fading, but there was no mistaking that it had been loosed from Pit's bow; Lance had been slashed multiple times by Meta Knight's blade Galaxia, and the jagged bloody gashes down Link's torso had probably been caused by the claws of one of Lance's most powerful Pokemon. Just by looking at Fox, Sonic could easily guess that Fox and Wolf had shot each other.

"The others?" Sonic gasped, fearing the answer even as he dropped to his knees next to Link.

Yami was already in motion too, having wrestled out of his own shirt as he began stripping the fabric for temporary bandages. "Midna and Falco are awake, but are showing signs of head trauma; Mewtwo, Leon, Blaze, and Silver all fell to Lucario's Aura, but they are all coming to."

Sonic glanced up from his ministrations for a moment; his gloves were already soaked with blood. "What?!"

"Lucario is unconscious," Yami offered in a tired voice, a voice that, for a split second, reflected the pharaoh's thousands of years. "I think that Legato may have enslaved Lucario's mind long enough to force him to attack the others, and then attacked his mind."

"And Shadow?"

"Also head trauma." Yami's eyes were filled with sympathy. "He has yet to awaken."

Sonic nodded once and turned back to his work, and the moment he had put Yami at his back he allowed the tears to fall. They heard the patio door open and close, and then Rosalina was sprinting back toward them, her arms laden with linen bed sheets and cotton towels. She had barely reached them before Sonic began barking orders in a harsh, agitated voice. "Get to Wolf now, or we might lose him!"

Rosalina did not argue; she paused just long enough to drop a stack of towels and sheets between them, and then she was off and running again. Sonic immediately snatched a sheet from the stack and began tearing it into long strands, tying off the lacerations across Link's chest with speed, efficiency, and care. Yami was faster; he had finished wrapping the bullet hole in Fox's ribcage and was halfway through bandaging the second of Lance's six sword wounds by the time Sonic had finished tending to Link. Yami winced and turned away when Sonic whispered a terse apology to an unconscious Marth before tugging the arrow out of his chest.

By the time they reached the place where the second line had met their fate, Mewtwo, Blaze, Midna, Leon, Falco, and Silver were all conscious and somewhat coherent. Midna had Lucario cradled in her arms and was speaking softly and quickly to him with tears shining in her eyes, and Mewtwo was tiredly pressing the pads of his fingers gingerly to Shadow's forehead.

_I can hear his thoughts,_ Mewtwo assured, even as Sonic opened hi s mouth to ask, _but he will not wake. I think he may have a cracked skull, but without an x-ray, I cannot be sure._

"Sonic!" cried Rosalina, and the hedgehog hurried over to her side and dropped down to his knees. She and Kirby were both sitting beside Wolf, and both wore grief-stricken expressions. "Two bullet wounds. The first one, caused by laser, may have grazed his heart."

"Please, God, no," breathed Sonic, and his head fell into his hands.

In the distance, sirens wailed.

* * *

><p>It wasn't just the semi-aerial viewpoint – there really wasn't a single soul in the village.<p>

Vick wandered slowly down what appeared to be the widest and most frequently used avenue, first as far west as she could without a major obstacle blocking her way. Her journey was short – little more than two blocks – and ended in a run-down storehouse with a heavy padlock barring her entrance and its nondescript off-white paint peeling badly from the walls. The storehouse appeared to have a small backyard area, gated with a privacy fence but not secured in any way that she could see, but Vick did not circle around to investigate. She wanted to get off the street – being out in the open in a strange place was making her more uncomfortable by the second.

She turned back and headed east, pausing outside the large house that was now on her left, the two-story structure that she had first wandered past upon descending the hill. The feeling that unfriendly eyes were watching her every move was now so potent that it was making her flesh crawl; desperately, she took hold of the partially-rotted doorknob and shouldered her way in. The door emitted a heavy layer of dust as it was separated from the doorframe for the first time in God knows how long, but it opened with barely any protest; Vick threw herself against the other side to close it and leaned there for a moment, grateful to have four walls around her despite the fact that her surroundings were altogether unfamiliar. The room she stood in was small – too small to be considered a foyer, more of an entryway – but the door ahead of her was similarly unbarred so she let herself in.

The Japanese overtones were impossible to overlook; there were large tatami screens set up in corners, artfully dividing sections of the large open space, but for what practical purpose Vick couldn't imagine; there were two more doors, one to her immediate left past one such screen and another straight ahead up three low, dusty stairs, as well as a staircase leading up to the second floor landing and a hallway that led out of sight. The room – could it really serve as a sitting room? Vick wasn't sure – was sparsely furnished, just a cooking pot suspended over a charcoal pit set into the floorboards and the tatami screens sectioning off certain areas. Even the ceiling overhead was composed of bare wooden boards; the lack of insulation left a chill to settle into the residence, and Vick shuddered.

Suddenly being outside didn't seem like such an uninviting prospect after all. Vick resisted the urge to call out against her better judgment – if anyone was living here, did she really want to meet them?

Suddenly remembering that she wasn't technically alone, Vick knelt down and popped open one of the Poke Balls that she had set on her belt barely twelve hours ago; the open capsule clacked noisily to the floor, and in a flash of red light the Vulpix that Lance had gifted to her materialized on the floor. The little fox-like creature instantly dropped into a defensible crouch, regarding its new surroundings with disdain and caution, and Vick reached out a hand to stroke the top of its head to calm it.

"I know," she murmured, and even her lowest whisper seemed to echo almost unbearably throughout the room. "It's creepy as hell. But look, if I'm alone for one more second I think I might lose it, so what do you say?"

Some of the tension eased out of Vulpix's muscles and it butted its forehead against her outstretched palm; Vick took this as a sign of condescending agreement, and she straightened up out of her crouch.

With Vulpix close at her heels Vick explored the room off to the left, but there was nothing of interest. It seemed to be a storage room for spare clothes; there were whole trunks full of kimonos of all sizes and colors, large ceramic pots and vases filled with dust, and a single old-fashioned oil lamp without a single drop of oil. She tried the other door but found it stuck fast, and so took the hallway and headed toward the back of the house. There was yet another door off to the left, situated in a shadowy little alcove, but it also refused to open, but the door at the very back of the house opened quite easily, as though it had been opened recently.

Here Vick found cupboards set into the wall, another trunk full of kimonos, and an old lattice separating the room from what appeared to be an atrium at the center of the house. Despite the fact that everything else in the house seemed decrepit and run-down, the lattice held fast when she tried to break through it to the garden beyond; peering through the cracks she could see a well in the center of the foliage, but little else. Turning back she nearly tripped over an old coal brazier that had been left in the center of the room, and set to rummaging through the cupboards; some of them were so warped that they wouldn't open, but one of the drawers set low into the wall creaked open to reveal half a dozen wax candles and tarnished bronze candlesticks. Vick set one of the candles into its holder and knelt down to Vulpix's level, and the fire fox was only too happy to set an ember glowing at the blackened wick. In the limited circle of soft light that the small flame emitted, Vick noticed a thick rug on the floor near her, and she pivoted on her knees to brush her fingers over the fabric –

She felt a bulge beneath the rug and eased the candle close enough to make out the shape.

A human body.

Vick gasped in shock and recoiled, overbalancing and landing on her backside; the candle dislodged from the candlestick and rolled away across the floor, its ember extinguished by the air resistance. She paused just long enough to retrieve the candle from where it lay and then bolted from the room with Vulpix several feet ahead of her.

Only when she reached the second staircase leading up to the landing above did Vick stop again, panting softly and lowering the candle down to Vulpix's level; the fox snorted derisively and lit the wick again, all the while regarding her with ever-suffering eyes.

"Don't look at me like that," Vick scolded in an undertone. "How the hell was I supposed to know that there would be dead bodies in this house? Do you really think I would have moseyed on in here and started snooping if I thought on any level that there were homicidal maniacs on the loose?"

Vulpix cocked its head to one side and lifted, then lowered, its shoulders in a shrugging motion. At least her little companion agreed with her. Vick was just situating the candle back into its holder when a shadow passed by on her left; she lifted the candlestick high and cast its light in that direction, but nothing seemed amiss. She was shivering now with cold and anxiety.

"Did you see that?" she questioned her Pokemon, and Vulpix nodded fervently. So she wasn't just losing her mind – there really had been something moving near her. Vick stood up and raised the candlestick even higher, prodding the flame's light into every inch of darkness, and when the light slanted across the door she noticed that it was standing slightly ajar now. Cold dread settled into the pit of Vick's stomach; she distinctly remembered passing through here just a few short minutes before, and silently noting that the door was both firmly closed and stuck fast.

Someone had been through here.

Slowly, the rational part of her brain begging her to turn around and sprint out of the house, Vick pushed the door open the rest of the way and took a step inside with her candle leading the way.

Inside she found a table strewn with old books, notebooks, and torn, illegible pages, as well as a bookcase standing nearby that was crammed with neglected tomes with weathered spines. A small altar was set up in one corner of the room, and there were small knick-knacks strewn across the floor, broken and forgotten. Vick set the candlestick precariously on top of an old stack of books and reached for the nearest torn page, straining her eyes to read the words; surprisingly enough, the script was English, not Japanese as she had expected.

_Someone! Anyone! Whoever sees this, look for me. I'm trapped in this village. HELP ME!_

_ - Miyako Sudo_

Vick frowned down at the page, even as Vulpix scaled several stacks of books and hopped up on the table to investigate. It surveyed the page in her hands with keen, intelligent eyes; trusting that the creature understood what it had read but knowing it couldn't give a verbal reply Vick started, "Who the hell is - ?"

That was when the door she had left ajar swung closed with a resounding bang, and even as she let out a startled shriek the figure of a woman glared at her from the doorway.

* * *

><p>Akabane was giddy as a schoolboy at the prospect of leaving All God's Village quickly and without a fuss… that is, until he reached his destination.<p>

Kureha Shrine stood at the highest point of the village, up a winding stone staircase lined with ever-burning lanterns and at the end of a small pavilion lined with trees. Akabane had forced his entry easily enough – the heavy padlock on the double doors had delayed him only as long as it had taken him to cut the steel in half with a scalpel – but that had proved to be just the first obstacle blocking his exit. He remembered well how he had escaped the village last time, even despite the decades that had elapsed since then – behind the elaborately-decorated shrine that the priests had used daily, through a small hole in the lattice on the right side, there was a door that led to a secret passageway. This passage led into a network of underground tunnels – one of the places where he had played as a child – and this particular tunnel weaved through the earth and eventually let out in the next county, far away from the horrors of the village.

Not so easy now – after squeezing through the hole in the lattice wall, it had become clear that escape through that passageway would be next to impossible. The door had been sealed, its edges caulked shut, and to add insult to injury the surface of the door had been plastered floor-to-ceiling with protective wards that even Akabane could not break. In his frustration he had grasped one of the paper characters and attempted to rip it from the door, but the parchment had burned his hand even through his latex glove and had proved impossible to remove. Now he stood glaring at the door, the only thing that separated him from the outside world, contemplating his next move.

He knew from experience that escape through the forest was impossible – countless children had tried, only to either fall to their deaths in the ravine or drown in the river that bisected the woods. To his knowledge, he was the only one who had ever traversed the secret passageway out of the village without getting caught – other children had tried before he had done it, but the adult villagers had always proved faster and dragged them back to meet their fates. Akabane stood there, combing through his memory, trying to dredge up the hellish years he had spent here; Itsuki had once told him that the reason the Old Tree was sealed off was because the heads of house were installing a secret mechanism wired underground that triggered another passageway to open when a puzzle was solved… How had he explained it? Something about the pinwheel crests that the heads of the families always carried…

It was no use. Every single route out of the village was closed off. The only chance of getting out now, Akabane knew, was to trust that Itsuki had been on the right track, and to gather the four pinwheel crests and break into the Old Tree somehow.

The questioned remained, where were the crests? Akabane knew who the four heads of house were, but he didn't fancy coming face to face with them now, thank you very much. There were some things that even a scalpel couldn't slice through.

Not that he wouldn't mind a little poking around. Obviously a great deal had transpired here since his flight from the village, and if family records were updated as meticulously as they had been in previous years, it wouldn't be all that difficult to retrieve information regarding the years that had elapsed since his departure.

Akabane was just taking his first few steps toward the hole in the lattice wall when he heard a scream; judging by the volume it was coming from quite far away, but his hearing had always been impeccable and he could often pick up the smallest of sounds across a great distance. He knew it had to be the girl – who else in the village could possibly be screaming? Even when little Chitose locked herself in a closet the worst she did was cry softly to herself…

It was time to accept that, if he really hoped to make it out of this village again, he was probably going to have to enlist the girl's help. So it really would not do to let her get herself killed in the first ten minutes of their delightful little stay.

* * *

><p>"Vulpix!" croaked Vick, in her first attempt to pull herself together. "Tackle!"<p>

She really had to hand it to her Pokemon; despite its low level and the overwhelming fear Vick knew it must be feeling, the little fire fox dipped its head and charged its much larger, much more intimidating opponent with barely a moment's hesitation. Maybe Vulpix was grossly outsized, but if it could just catch the woman off her guard for a split second it could knock her down and they could escape in the confusion.

Vulpix neared their attacker, preparing to ram the woman in the shins… and passed right through her, only to collide head-on with the door behind her and collapse in a daze.

Vick stumbled backward, tripped over one of the near-to-toppling stacks of books, and fell to the ground, all the while staring up at the horrifying woman as she advanced further into the room. It couldn't be possible, it just couldn't be _real_… She kept telling herself over and over that _people_ could not be translucent, that things like _ghosts_ just didn't exist, but what was happening right before her eyes couldn't be explained in any other way. Vulpix had passed through the woman. She was clearly more than human.

Scrambling backward, Vick felt around on the floor behind her, desperately looking for something with which she could defend herself. Her hand bumped against a flashlight and she clutched it in both hands, ready to swing it like a baseball bat if the opportunity presented itself; she also glimpsed a very old, very strange looking camera, but dismissed it as garbage and focused on the task at hand. The semi-transparent woman was only a few feet away now, muttering angrily beneath her breath, her eyes fixed maniacally upon Vick.

The door banged open and Vick glanced up; through the ghostly specter of the woman looming over her she could make out the partially-obscured figure of the man in the black hat. His eyes flitted quickly from the ghostly woman, to Vick cowering on the floor, and then to a point just behind her. Perhaps it was her imagination, but Vick thought she saw his eyes widen.

"Kill it!" Vick shrieked, just as the specter was rounding on the man.

He dodged nimbly out of the doorway and circled around the table, the hem of his floor length black overcoat rippling behind him, but the woman simply passed through the table as she advanced on him. He cast his eyes wildly in Vick's direction, though he seemed to be looking behind her again. The moment he was nearly cornered he growled, "The camera!"

This was perhaps the most absurd thing Vick had ever heard; the man was about to meet a gruesome death at the hands of a ghost and he was thinking about photography, of all things? "What?!"

"The camera!" he bellowed, just as his back touched the wall. "Take a picture! Do it NOW!"

As the ghost of the woman was reaching her translucent white hands out toward the man's neck, Vick flicked the flashlight on and cast its beam upon the floor behind her. It illuminated a veritable mountain of dusty books, dozens of strewn pages, and a strange shutter camera with odd Japanese symbols lining the casing around the lens. Figuring that now was not the time to question her would-be rescuer Vick lifted the camera and aimed it at the malicious spirit, her finger settling upon the shutter button as she gazed through the viewfinder. In the split second before she took the shot she noticed that, when glimpsed through the viewfinder, the woman appeared just as real and solid as the man in the black hat.

Vick pressed the button and snapped a picture.

The flash from the camera was blinding; the man in the black hat recoiled, throwing an arm up to shield his eyes, but the ghost of the woman shrieked like a banshee and clawed at her translucent head, her fathomless eyes wild; they were afforded a moment's glimpse of the woman's face contorted in complete and utter agony when the flash faded, and then she vanished.

In that moment, Vick was nothing but grateful that she had taken a photojournalism class in high school.

* * *

><p>It was complete bedlam at the hospital. Mewtwo, Leon, Blaze, Silver, Kirby, Yami, Sonic, and Midna were all released after enduring an extensive once-over by the hospital's top-notch third-shift staff, but that was only the beginning of their trials there. Falco was diagnosed with having a mild concussion, and despite the avian's protests his doctors insisted on keeping him overnight to keep watch for any more serious symptoms they may have missed during the preliminary diagnostics. Mewtwo's fears about Shadow's condition were confirmed when, around two thirty in the morning, the hedgehog's nurse came out to inform them that not only was Shadow's concussion much more severe than Falco's, but his skull had been cracked also. They were not able to discern the severity of Shadow's head injuries from the first round of scans, but the x-ray left no question as to whether or not he was seriously injured; he still hadn't come around, and Sonic was left pacing the waiting room their group had taken up temporary residence in.<p>

That was just the beginning; it was near sunrise before they heard any news on their remaining comrades, who included Pit, Wolf, Fox, Link, Lance, Meta Knight, Marth, and Lucario. The news they received was far from heartening: Meta Knight's wings, still so fragile from his battle against Marth a few weeks previous, were enduring a second round of reconstructive surgery, and the odds that he would regain full use of them even after extensive physical therapy was less than ten percent. Fox regained consciousness just long enough to start asking about Wolf before he drifted off again; Marth was scheduled for a minor surgery, which would be starting just after six. After spending five hours in critical condition, Pit and Lance were moved into recovery with the promise that both would fully recuperate, but both would bear the scars of their injuries for the rest of their lives.

The worst news came around seven a.m.; Link had lost so much blood that he couldn't hope to survive until midday without a blood transfusion, Lucario had drifted into a coma, and the entire east wing of the hospital was astounded that Wolf was still alive at all. The laser bullet shot from Fox's own gun had indeed grazed his heart, and the organ was only operating at about fifteen percent capacity. With so much stress on his heart, Wolf couldn't hope to survive. They all huddled close together upon hearing this news, hugging one another, offering Kleenex to wipe away the tears.

Desperate, Blaze, Yami, Midna, and Sonic gathered around Link's hospital bed to discuss his options with the doctor in charge; seeing their unofficial leader in such a state of weakness struck a heavy blow to them all, and they wondered if they would ever see his eyes open again.

The news was less than uplifting. "Link's blood type is the rarest a person can have," the doctor informed them grimly, flipping through the paperwork on Link that had been attached to his clipboard and jotting a few notes down with an ink pen. "Unfortunately, he's O negative; this type occurs in one in every fifteen individuals, but a person with the O negative blood type can only receive blood from another person with an identical type."

"Aren't there medical centers that offer a synthetic substitute for O negative?" pressed Midna, her eyes swimming with tears.

"There are," Link's doctor agreed, "but this particular facility is not one of them. Link has lost far too much blood for us to cut any corners. Under these circumstances, he needs a transfusion from a willing donor, and he needs it right now."

"And our only option is to find a willing donor with O negative blood?" Yami pressed urgently.

Link's doctor hugged his clipboard to his chest and re-adjusted his glasses nervously before answering, "I'm afraid so." He then bustled out of the room with a hurried "Excuse me", presumably to check on one of their other injured compatriots. Quickly, the four of them put their heads together.

"Type?" hissed Sonic.

"A negative," said Midna.

"B positive," continued Blaze.

"AB positive," offered Yami.

Sonic ended with a sigh and ran his hand down his face again, taking in Link's chalky-white complexion. "We've got no choice but to ask the others," the hedgehog told them, holding the door open for his friends. "I can't do it either – I'm also B positive."

The four of them trouped back out to the waiting room they had claimed as their own, where the others sat deep in thought. Midna seemed to have taken Link's well being into her own hands, and addressed all of them in a pinched but confident voice. "Link's blood type is O negative, which means he can only accept blood from a donor who's also O negative. Are any of you…?"

Kirby squawked a reply that none of them understood, but it hardly mattered; Leon was AB negative, Mewtwo and Rosalina, O positive, and Silver, B negative.

"What'll we do?" whimpered Midna, and Yami put an arm around her and squeezed her shoulders tightly.

Sonic didn't like it, but it appeared they were running out of options. "We don't have enough time to request an anonymous donor… We have no choice. We have to check the rest of the guys."

"What?!" thundered Blaze. "You mean… the ones that are in the ICU?!"

Sonic's shoulders fell. "If we want Link to live, we have to try. Midna, head over to recovery and talk with Pit and Lance. Blaze, go and check on Fox. Yami, see if Shadow's awake. I'll go and have a chat with Falco. Marth and Meta can't do it, they're both in surgery, and Wolf and Luca…"

He trailed off, looking suddenly distraught, and they all parted ways without another word.

Yami returned first, with the news that Shadow was still unconscious; one of the doctors had been willing to perform a blood test, though, only to find out that Shadow's B positive blood wasn't compatible anyway. Midna brought the news that Pit and Lance, with AB positive and O positive, respectively, also did not make eligible candidates; Fox was hovering on the edge of consciousness when Blaze entered, and managed to stay away long enough to tell her that he was A negative.

Sonic could hear Falco shouting from one full hallway away, and somehow managed to smile to himself when he heard the avian cry, "I'll pee in the cup, lady, but I'm not doing it with you in the room so get the hell out!" A stricken-looking brunette assistant came scurrying out of the room just as Sonic was entering, and when Sonic let himself in the avian was preparing to unzip his pants. Sonic cleared his throat, and Falco leapt about a foot in the air, wincing as he did so.

"Goddammit!" growled the avian, wincing a second time. "Don't you people know how to knock?!" He finished by tugging the zipper back up, and tossing his empty specimen cup in Sonic's direction. The hedgehog sidestepped it easily, looking grim, prompting Falco to add, "Something's wrong, isn't it?"

"A lot of things are wrong," Sonic admitted, sitting down in the visitor's chair that had been drawn up to the avian's hospital bed. "Lucario's in a coma with no sign of recovering, and Wolf… he isn't gonna make it. They gave him no chance."

Falco sat down heavily, despair forcing his normally straight shoulders into a slump. "What? That can't be right… Wolf? But… he's the toughest guy I've ever met, how can he possibly…?"

"That's not even why I'm here." Sonic leaned forward, and the hope had almost faded from his eyes. "Link needs a transfusion – he's lost so much blood that he won't last the rest of the afternoon without one. This hospital doesn't carry synthetic blood that matches his type, and ordering it would take longer than he's got. None of us carries his type, either – I've checked."

"What's his type?" Falco croaked.

"O negative. And his donor has to be that type, too – O neg can only take O neg." Sonic rubbed his eyes wearily, fighting the urge to give up. "You're the last one. None of the others has it."

Something lit up in the depths of Falco's sunken eyes, and he suddenly straightened with new purpose. "Then wheel me over there and strap me down – I'll do it."

Sonic nearly choked on his own saliva. "You… you're O negative?!"

"Yeah… you wanna check my pilot's license?" Falco forced a laugh despite the severity of the situation. "I've been on a donor list ever since I joined Star Fox – my wingmate Slippy has a long history of health problems, and I always figured I'd have to give him a kidney or something."

"But Falco… your concussion…"

"Is not nearly as serious as the fact that Link needs blood to survive this," Falco cut in smoothly, waving a hand in dismissal. "Don't you understand that without the transfusion, Link will die? I can handle this, rodent. I owe it to him. He gave me a home here when I had nowhere else to go. Next to Fox, he's my oldest friend." He broke off, looking uncomfortable at the sentimentality of his words, before finishing in an undertone, "He'd do the same for me."

Sonic couldn't help but be moved by the words; as tough as they all talked, it was always apparent that they were the closest any group of friends could get. The term "ultimate sacrifice" was not beyond any of them; Falco was about to prove just that. Sonic couldn't deny him that opportunity; Falco was willing to risk his own health and safety for Link, and if the Hylian could be saved… "Alright, but let me get you a wheelchair. If these nurses see you out of bed and walking around the hospital, they'll kill us both."

Falco cracked his knuckles and rose back up, but with more caution this time. "Good plan."

* * *

><p>Mewtwo slipped away from the others and padded somberly down the hallway toward Lucario's room. The doctors had finished with their second round of scans by the time he arrived, so no one else was present; all around him machinery whirred and colored lights blinked blandly. He approached Lucario's bedside and took the other Pokemon's paw in his own, squeezing it affectionately.<p>

Glancing over his shoulder, he checked the readout of Lucario's heart rate. Lucario's case had every doctor in the east wing completely baffled – all of his vital signs were good, extraordinarily healthy, even, so why the coma? Several of the others had filtered in and attempted to talk with him, but to no avail… Mewtwo knew what was really wrong, and knew also that it had everything to do with Legato Bluesummers.

He pulled the visitor's chair up to the side of Lucario's bed, never releasing his hand, and dug deep into the Aura Guardian's mind. When he was certain he could move no further without risking further harm to Lucario, he projected his thoughts into Lucario's subconscious. _Can you hear me?_

The voice that reached out to meet him was feeble and weak, but it was there nonetheless. _Yes… I tried to speak to the others when they visited, but my mind is not strong enough to sustain conversation that way._ Lucario heaved a weary mental sigh, struggling to keep contact with Mewtwo, and finished, _It's good that you have come._

_Rest,_ Mewtwo ordered gently. _There is much that you don't know, so let me do the talking for awhile._ With that Mewtwo settled into a brief but informative synopsis of the others' injuries, ranging from Falco's mild concussion to poor Wolf, clinging stubbornly to life from his deathbed. He could feel the multitude of questions swirling around in Lucario's exhausted and broken mind, but finally he settled on inquiring after the one person that the others, in their grief, had forgotten.

_Victoria._

Mewtwo hung his head; he had been secretly hoping that Lucario wouldn't ask. Bad news would weaken Lucario's already delicate state – nevertheless, Mewtwo couldn't find it in himself to lie. _We didn't have time to stage a search party for her. As I understand it, Rosalina and Pit were supposed to have a date last night, and when he didn't show she came looking for him… She made the call in for 911 and we came straight here. Under the circumstances…_

A wash of sadness and worry emanated from Lucario's subconscious, and Mewtwo choked back a sob. _If Wesker found her… I can't imagine… I have to get out of here. I have to find her. I cannot leave her alone, Mewtwo, she is only a human, she can't handle – _

_I know, my friend._ Mewtwo squeezed Lucario's paw again, hoping the other Pokemon could feel it. _When you are able to search, I will go with you. Don't fret over her now. You must rest._

Lucario's body began emitting a barely-visible blue glow, and Mewtwo frowned. In response to Mewtwo's wordless questions Lucario explained, _I am channeling as much of my Aura's life energy as I can spare to aid in my own recovery. There are pieces of my mind that are not functioning properly – I can feel them from inside here – and it will take some time for me to repair them. Legato paralyzed me._

_Your doctors did not mention any paralysis when I received their diagnosis of you, _Mewtwo growled.

_And they wouldn't find any,_ Lucario admitted. _The problem is not with my body. The part of my mind that controls my motor functions is not currently responding. I must heal these wounds myself._

Lucario broke off, his subconscious gasping for breath, and Mewtwo squeezed his paw even tighter. _That's enough. Rest now. I will come and check on your progress later, and bring you some more information._

_Wait._ Lucario was panting for breath, though his chest remained unmoving; his struggles pained Mewtwo, who could only watch helplessly. _You didn't mention Link._

The question irked Mewtwo – mostly because he knew that Lucario and Link had feelings for one another, but refused to acknowledge them most of the time. Nevertheless, he answered. _He is awaiting a blood donor. He must have a transfusion or he will not survive. It sounds as though Sonic has questioned everyone in the house… no one has a blood type that is compatible with Link's, unfortunately, or I'm certain the procedure would already be under way. If only O negative types could receive other types besides just their own…_

Lucario's alarm was like a bomb going off, so much so that Mewtwo recoiled and cowered away from his subconscious voice when Lucario, for all intents and purposes, started screaming. _Wake me up! Wake me up! I have it! I have O negative!_

_Lucario, please, be reasonable –_

_NO! Do it NOW! Take as much as he needs! TAKE IT!_

Mewtwo abruptly released Lucario's paw and let it drop back to the hospital bed, and removed his presence from Lucario's mind; he could feel the Aura Guardian's presence reaching out toward him, but he dismissed it with barely a thought. The strain of keeping up a conversation was too much for Lucario; soon it would begin to impede the process of his Aura healing him, and that was something Mewtwo couldn't allow.

Even if it meant that Link had to suffer a terrible fate in exchange.

* * *

><p>Sonic stood behind Falco's wheelchair, tapping his foot impatiently as, for the fifth time, Link's doctor implored the avian to see reason. "Mr. Lombardi – "<p>

"I told you, it's Falco. Mr. Lombardi, rest his soul, was my pops."

"Fine," the doctor spat tersely. "Falco, I cannot allow you to go through with the donor procedure. I have already told you, you are not of sound mind. A concussion often impedes the way a person truly thinks, and your ability to make decisions in your current state – "

But Falco was getting irritated, and he cut the doctor off yet again. "Doc, listen – I make stupid and reckless decisions when I'm not concussed; I even do dumb things when I haven't had a drop of Jack. This would be my decision now, stone drunk, unconscious, or dead sober – you gotta take my blood. I'm begging you."

The doctor's resolve was wavering; Sonic sensed victory was approaching. "Under the circumstances, I will need a relative to sign a waiver stating that you are giving your true and honest consent, and that you understand the risks that you are taking by participating in this procedure."

Sonic spoke up at once. "I'll do it."

The doctor heaved a sigh, glaring at Sonic disdainfully. "You're his relative?"

"Yeah. Sure. I'm his brother. You don't see the resemblance? We're both blue."

The doctor threw up his arms in exasperation and practically ripped the waiver of consent from his clipboard, thrusting it at Sonic. The hedgehog took it with a smile and widened his eyes innocently when he asked, "Do you have a pen I can borrow?" The doctor thrust the pen in Sonic's direction and then promptly stomped out, with a hurried excuse about preparing for the procedure. Falco chuckled softly beneath his breath so as not to worsen his headache.

Sonic inked his signature at the bottom of the waiver and set it upon the counter with a flourish, eying Falco with every passing moment. "You sure you're feeling up to this?"

"Sure. It'd be cool for Link to owe me his life for as long as we know each other." Falco cackled wickedly as Sonic started helping him out of the top half of his hospital gown, and though the hedgehog knew Falco was making light of the situation as a defense mechanism he didn't have the chance to question him further, for at that moment the personnel running the procedure entered.

A few minutes later, Falco was lying horizontally on a cot not too far from where Link lay unconscious. Sonic took the avian's left hand as one of the nurses swabbed the crook of his right elbow clean; Falco turned his head toward Link and heaved a nervous sigh, purposely looking away as the needle entered his arm.

"You owe me for the rest of your miserable life," Falco told his unmoving friend. "I love you, bro. No homo."

* * *

><p>Vick ran to the door and scooped up her Vulpix, cradling the dazed fox creature close to her chest and murmuring soothing sounds to it. It opened its eyes a fraction to regard her and whimpered pathetically; taking pity on it she dismissed it back to its Poke Ball. Turning from the door she set her eyes upon the man in the black hat, who was meticulously straightening his hat.<p>

"Wanna start explaining?" she demanded in an almost accusatory tone of voice.

The man in the black hat chuckled a little to himself and pushed off of the wall, taking three long strides to cross the room toward the door; Vick threw out one arm, blocking the doorknob behind her. Her eyes were intensely suspicious; his mouth turned downward into a scowl.

"Well?" Vick pried.

His answer was just as evasive as she had expected. "Maybe some other time." He reached out one white-gloved hand toward the door but Vick stubbornly shifted her weight. She was now completely blocking the doorway and showed no signs of backing down despite his intimidating presence. The man in the black hat eyed her curiously for a moment, as though unsure just what to make of her, then one corner of his lips twitched upward into a kind of threatening smile. "Is your memory perhaps a little faulty?"

Vick lifted her chin to look him dead in the eye; he was quite a bit taller than she was, though she stood a reasonable five-foot-seven. "Not in the slightest."

"Good." The chilling smirk remained in place. "Then you remember quite well that I fought off your two would-be killers barely twenty four hours ago?"

"Vividly. Though it seems to me that if you were really as skilled as you're trying to lead me to believe, you'd have finished them off, wouldn't you?"

The man in the black hat chuckled again, his purple-black eyes glittering strangely. "My, my, you certainly are an impertinent one, aren't you?" He braced both of his hands against the wall on either side of Vick's head suddenly, leaning down so that they were glaring one another eye-to-eye; Vick felt suddenly cornered, claustrophobic. "Did it ever occur to you that standing in my way could result in – " He paused just long enough to stab one of his scalpels deep into the wood of the door, barely millimeters from Vick's left eye, before finishing in a icy whisper, " – A very painful time for you?"

To her credit, Vick kept her composure very well; nevertheless, the man in the black hat still took note of the slight bobbing of her throat as she swallowed nervously. His smile broadened just a bit, until Vick managed to recover herself completely and her silver tongue lashed out with her retort like a whip. "I'd believe it a little more if you hadn't saved my life four times now."

"If you believe for one moment that those circumstances had anything to do with you – " The man in the black hat broke off, looking politely confused, before asking slowly, "Four times? I count only three."

It was Vick's turn to smirk. "Yeah, twice in the alley, once just now, and once back in the forest. That was you in the trees, wasn't it? You led me here on purpose."

The mildly amused smirk vanished, to be replaced by the scowl. "I do not have time for your rootless suppositions, nor is this the place for such an argument. I have no desire to stay in this god-forsaken village any longer than I must."

"Good. So you're ready to tell me about the camera?" Vick smiled with exaggerated sweetness.

The man in the black hat straightened up, his expression sour, and twitched his head irritably to indicate that she would do well to stop barring his way. Vick thought it best not to press her luck, and stepped lightly to the side; he strode past her, leaving his scalpel quivering in the rotting wood, and she followed after him without hesitation. He had led her through the sitting room, into the foyer, out the door and halfway down the main street to the east before he noticed that she was staring up at him expectantly, and he heaved an exasperated sigh. "It's called the Camera Obscura. Very few people know its origin – I myself am not one of them – but I do know that it has exorcismal powers." Seeing Vick's confusion he added irritably, "It takes photographs of the departed and exorcises their spirits, making them weak enough to become harmless or drift out of existence altogether."

Vick turned the camera over in her hands, marveling at its strange model – she had never seen anything quite like it before. "So basically what you're saying is… it's a weapon against… ghosts?"

"Yes." The man in the black hat turned a corner and headed south again, leading Vick past the doorway to another large building; the door was covered in bloodstains, and a rusty sickle was protruding from the wood. Vick noticed that his pale jaw was set and tense; she thought she might know why, and curiosity prompted her to ask the question.

"You can't fight them, can you?"

Suddenly, the man was moving; he seized Vick by the shoulder and dragged her off the cobblestoned street. In the shadow of the looming building he shoved her up against the wall, his teeth bared in ferocity and his eyes shining a flat, relentless black. She stared up at him, her eyes questioning but unafraid, and after the span of five heartbeats his grip on her shoulder slackened and he exhaled angrily. "No. I cannot."

Vick swallowed hard when he released her, but she straightened up quickly and smoothed the stray strands of hair out of her face. "Then you'll need my help, right?" She held out her hand toward him, which was only shaking a little. "I'm Vick."

There was a tense moment when Vick was certain that he would kill her, then the man straightened and took a step back, adjusting the roguish angle at which his hat sat upon his head. Then he slid his hand into hers in a way that raised goose bumps on her arms; his hand was icy cold beneath the thin latex glove he wore. "Akabane."

The silence that followed their long-awaited introductions did not last very long – perhaps ten seconds, the time it took them to reach a large gate fashioned of some very old, very dark wood. When Akabane shoved this open Vick threw caution to the winds and reached out, snagging his wrist in one of her hands; he turned back to glare at her, his eyes murderous.

She knew she had to handle him roughly, and with every ounce of her courage, if she wanted to get any answers. She started with the simplest and most basic of her questions. "Where are we going?"

Akabane tugged his arm from her grip with barely an effort. "House Kurosawa."

"I see." Vick smiled to herself behind his back, counting the seconds as they passed in her head; it was about four seconds before Akabane's stride slowed uncertainly, and another three before he stopped altogether and hung his head with a sigh. Then she voiced her next question. "You've been here before, haven't you?"

Akabane's voice was smooth – trying to gloss over his mistake, she assumed. "Whatever gives you that impression?"

"Oh, nothing – it couldn't be the fact that you're stalking around like you own the place, as if you know exactly where you're going… Or the fact that just now, you named the location we're headed to." Vick crossed her arms obstinately. "Tell me what you know."

"Little girl," Akabane crooned malevolently, and Vick scowled, "do you think this is wise? You are in no position to be questioning me. You are lost in the dark, standing against forces that are beyond you. You should count yourself fortunate that I have decided to abide your presence. So why don't you just keep your mouth shut, follow me, and perhaps you'll survive this ordeal?"

"I think you'll tell me," Vick pointed out airily.

"Oh, you do, do you?"

They were standing in the center of a very old, very wide bridge now; Vick strode to the side and thrust one arm out over the guardrail, to the point where her hand was extended far over the side of the bridge. Akabane took one step toward her and then froze in place, his eyes locked in horror upon the object she now held precariously over the water below.

The Camera Obscura.

"Yeah," sighed Vick, shrugging her shoulders with mock tragedy, swaying the camera to and fro in her fingers. "I think you will."

Akabane settled back into a more relaxed pose, snickering to himself. "Under normal circumstances I would find your behavior mildly amusing – at the moment, however, I consider you a fool. Why would you risk destroying your only defense against the spirits here? Moreover, what makes you think this gives you any sort of leverage over me?"

Vick actually winked. "Wrong answer."

She opened her fingers and the camera slipped from her grasp; Akabane snarled like an infuriated animal and leapt forward, his hand outstretched to retrieve it, but Vick had deceived him. The camera was connected to a wrist strap – little more than a thin piece of leather, really – and it dangled from this now, which was looped around Vick's index finger. Akabane's eyes raged with fire as Vick laughed.

"That's why," she chuckled. "Because you need this camera just as much as I do. You may be a hell of a lot stronger than me in the real world, but here, you're just as powerless as I am. Your speed, your strength, your skill with a scalpel… they're all meaningless tricks. If there's no camera, we're both toast. But I have it, and I know how to use it, which means that not only are you taking me with you, you're going to start explaining everything. Right now."

Akabane rocked back a step, and Vick hoisted the camera back over the guardrail and into the safety of both her hands. Once the camera was secured, Akabane began to explain. "Alright… yes, I have been here before – many years ago, when I was still a child. For the sake of time I am going to tell you only the essentials of what you should know now, and then I will have to insist that we move on.

"This village practices an old Japanese ritual called the Crimson Sacrifice – the purpose of this is to purify the ground around which the villagers believe one of the gates to hell was built. It is of particular note that this village has always produced an abundance of twins – and twins play the most important role in the ritual. You see, in the Crimson Sacrifice, the elder twin kills the younger twin."

Vick's mouth dropped open in horror. "What?! That's awful! Why – "

"This village practices the old way," Akabane overrode her, "in that the twin that is born first is considered the younger of the two. The reasoning is that the elder twin, seeing that the younger twin was weaker and could not abide to survive in the womb for another second, allowed his younger sibling to be born into the world first. The twin that is born second is considered the older and the stronger of the two."

"And that's why everyone is dead?" Vick whispered, trembling despite the fact that the night was far from cold. "Because they all killed one another for this ritual?"

"No." Akabane gritted his teeth together, looking enraged but still somehow confused. "When I left, there were no spirits. There were only villagers, obsessed with performing the ritual and appeasing the hell that threatened to spill out into the living world. I do not know what has caused the cataclysm here, but I intend to find out."

It took Vick a moment to catch on, and if the man facing her hadn't been perhaps the strongest and most frightening man she had ever known, she would have slapped him. "You're not leading us out of here?! Are you out of your fucking mind?!"

Akabane squared his slender shoulders, frowning anew. "I intend to escape after I have found the information I require."

"Information?! So you're leading me around on some wild goose chase just to find out what went down in this village?! Fuck the village! We have no business being here and we need to get the hell out!"

"Then give me the camera," drawled Akabane, holding out one hand, palm up, in her direction. "If you are this opposed to my agenda, I will not keep you here against your will. Give me the camera and you are free to go."

Vick moved suddenly, broadening her stance and raising the camera up in both of her hands. Akabane was certain that she was about to strike him and he laughed aloud once, summoning another razor-sharp scalpel into his hand and preparing to run her through. He was momentarily blinded by the flash of the camera as Vick snapped a photo, and he growled with rage –

When the stars in his eyes cleared Akabane glanced back – to find that another spirit had drifted up behind him during their argument. It was fading away into nothingness now, but its hand had been less than an inch from his shoulder. He turned back to regard Vick, only to find her smiling victoriously at him in return.

"Give you the camera?" she echoed incredulously. "You wouldn't last ten seconds in this mad house without me!"

* * *

><p>The effort of dragging himself back to consciousness was more difficult than anything he had ever experienced, but after a great many hours, Link managed it. His entire body felt heavy, as though all of his extremities were made of lead, and it took more effort than he could ever have imagined just to force his eyelids back over his eyes. At first he saw nothing – just the blinding white of the lights above him – and then color faded back in and he perceived where he was, and who was with him.<p>

He was lying on a reasonably comfortable hospital bed with a sterile white sheet draped over his waist; his torso was bare but thankfully had been covered with bandages, because he was certain that the gashes healing beneath them would have turned his stomach. He vaguely remembered a massive orange beast bearing down upon him, howling its unearthly cry and extending its wicked claws toward him… Lance's Dragonite, he assumed. Had it attacked him? There was also a large quantity of surgical tape bound to the crook of his left elbow, but he could not recall being wounded there, and so this confused him.

Turning his head to the left he perceived a blurry vision of the front of the hospital room, with strange machinery bleeping and whirring and the door politely closed; he then turned his head to the right, and almost couldn't believe what he saw.

His best friend, Falco Lombardi, sitting upright in an identical hospital bed not far away with a cold compress applied to his forehead and a small apple juice box in one hand. Link's tongue was just as heavy as the rest of his body, but somehow he managed to slur, "Fal…co?"

Falco slurped once on the straw protruding from his juice box, then set the drink aside, smiling broadly. "Hey Sleeping Beauty. Enjoy your nap?"

Link worked to clear his throat – it felt like sandpaper. "How long was I out?"

The avian glanced over his shoulder at the clock on the wall, counting the hours in his head twice before he answered. "Hell, about twelve hours? But I think you're out of the woods now. Without the transfusion, you wouldn't have made it through the day – well, that's according to your bone-headed doctor, who I'm pretty sure got his license to practice medicine from a mini mall."

At the word 'transfusion', Link's brain started working a little faster – mainly because he knew that the procedure called for a large portion of blood to be donated to him from another person. "Was I… that bad?"

The smile vanished from Falco's face when he admitted, "You looked like death, buddy. I…" He swallowed hard, struggling not to get too emotional when he finished, "I was afraid you weren't gonna make it."

If there was one thing Link knew about Falco, it was that the mercenary never mixed words; he told the truth with every word that he spoke, and he didn't believe in sparing people's feelings. If he said that Link had been hanging onto life by a thread, then he had been. Link was feeling more alert when he asked, "Who donated to me?"

Falco didn't answer – instead he simply picked up his juice box again and sucked lightly at the straw, eying Link with a soft expression he rarely wore. Link's eyes flitted down to Falco's right arm, where he wore a bandage identical to Link's on the inside of his elbow.

"Falco…"

"Save it." The avian flashed a smile the Hylian's way, but it was short lived. "I did my part and I did it because I wanted to, not because I felt obligated or somebody made me. Besides… there are worse things going down right now than this. Things that I have no control over."

Link crooked an eyebrow – even that small motion was difficult. "Like what?"

The door opened; Pit, Yami, Midna, and Sonic admitted themselves quietly as Falco answered, "Wolf is fading fast. The doctors have done everything they can, but he's still slipping away. It's just a matter of time now."

The news struck Link like a heavy blow to the stomach and he exhaled sharply; ignoring the sudden dizziness as he did so he sat up, his face white with panic. "What?!"

He searched the eyes and faces of the others, desperate for someone to refute what Falco had just said, but everywhere he looked he found himself confronted with the same heart-wrenching expressions: despair, and hopelessness. Midna approached his bedside with tears shining in her eyes, and as she smoothed the hair away from his face with one hand he slid his other hand into hers and squeezed it comfortingly. Sonic's eyes were dull and somber, and Yami had an arm around Pit's shoulders. It was obvious that Pit had been crying.

Link shook his head once in denial. "But… there has to be something we can do…"

"No, Link." This time it was Sonic who spoke, in a voice as dark and hollow as an empty grave. "The only thing we can do now is… say goodbye."

* * *

><p>House Kurosawa was just as dark and uninviting as the previous establishment had been, but in square footage it was about three times as large, which meant that Akabane and Vick had a great deal of ground to cover. The entrance hall was quite grand (as, Vick would soon discover, was the rest of the house), but dilapidated – portions of the roof were missing and the unearthly chill had crept inside, ruffling torn curtains in an eerie fashion. Shards of broken jars littered the floor.<p>

Akabane tried to lead them right at first, but the door was locked with a padlock that had been engraved with a strange symbol. He struck at it with a scalpel and was mildly surprised when the padlock turned the blade away without even a scratch to show for his efforts. The only other door led them in the opposite direction.

"I can't say that I'm terribly surprised," Akabane murmured as they stepped through the other door. "Everything the Kurosawas had that was worth protecting lies beyond that door – including the main altar that the priests used, the family library, the Rope Temple, and the primary entrance to the Abyss."

The next room had a small bookcase in one corner, which Akabane immediately set to examining; Vick scanned every nook and cranny with the flashlight she had taken from the last house, just to be certain that there were no immediate threats lurking nearby. As she inspected one of the chests of drawers on the other side of the room she asked, as an afterthought, "Rope Temple?"

Akabane didn't respond right away; he was flipping absent-mindedly through one of the books from the shelf, his eyes slitted as he read select passages. Sounding quite bereft he said, "Yes… where the Ceremony Master and his most prestigious priests sacrificed a Kusabi."

"I feel like you need subtitles. Ceremony Master? Kusabi?"

Replacing the book on the shelf Akabane set to scanning the tattered spines of the rest, seeming unsatisfied. "The Ceremony Master is the highest priest in the village, and he is always a member of the Kurosawa family. You could say that in this village, the Kurosawa are the ruling body, closer to royalty than the rest. When I lived here, Ryokan Kurosawa was the Ceremony Master, though as I have said, that was many years ago." Vick was still processing the words _when I lived here_, pondering just what that could mean, when Akabane added, "At times the ritual fell upon a year when not a single set of twins was prepared to carry out the Crimson Sacrifice; on that rare occasion, a Kusabi was used. The literal translation of 'Kusabi' is – "

"Outsider," Vick cut in quietly.

"Precisely. You can guess what it meant. Outsiders – those not born in the village – would wander into the perimeter occasionally; generally the Ceremony Master went out of his way to make the outsider feel welcome, so that the newcomer would feel inclined to prolong his stay. In this way, the villagers could have a Kusabi prepared to offer up as sacrifice, in the event one was needed."

Vick extracted a small envelope from the folds of old kimonos and examined it; it appeared to be some strange kind of film, but newer and better made than the type that was currently loaded into the Camera Obscura. She slipped the envelope into a pocket, saying, "Did the camera belong to the Kurosawa family?"

"No." Akabane straightened and moved away from the bookshelf, placing his hand upon the doorknob and opening it; Vick hastened to follow. "The camera was brought into the village by an outsider – a man who eventually became a Kusabi, if my memory serves."

"I just wondered why I was finding film for the camera in this house."

The hallway was long and crooked; Akabane led them forward without pause. "The Kurosawa family always took it upon themselves to accommodate an outsider; they housed them here and treated them lavishly, so that the future Kusabi would be flattered into staying. I would assume that the man who created the Camera Obscura continued his work during his stay, and left odds and ends behind."

Vick had taken to sticking close to Akabane, traveling just one step behind and to his right – she glanced up at him now, studying his pale face, most of which was obscured by the brim of his hat. "You seem much more compliant. Earlier I was beating answers out of you."

A snicker was Akabane's only reply.

As they were passing by an intersecting hallway that ran to the left and then curved out of sight, Vick thought she heard faint footsteps. She paused as Akabane whipped around the corner, the clack of his boots loud enough to drown out her own footsteps altogether; flashing the beam of light down that direction she noticed something red on the wall, and slowly advanced to investigate it.

She was barely six inches away when it became clear: the walls was covered with bloody handprints of all sizes, and led in a trail of smears down the hallway and through a door that swung partially open, creaking in the draft that coursed through the portions of roofless ceiling. Surely this way had to be important? Why had Akabane overlooked it?

Passing through the door she stopped abruptly in her tracks, covering her mouth with her own hand to stifle what might have become a horrible scream. The room had been ransacked – clothes hung out of the chest-of-drawers in the corner, the coal brazier had been smashed – and every surface soaked in blood; there were even splatters of it on the ceiling, as though this were the sight of some macabre explosion. Vick picked her way forward carefully, so as not to slip and fall –

Halfway into the room it dawned on her – only fresh blood was slick to the touch.

The door she had come through slammed shut, and with a yelp she turned back; there was nothing there. Had the draft blown the door shut? She strode the length of the room and tried the doorknob, only to find that it was stuck fast… the knob wouldn't even turn.

Vick turned away from the door to resume investigating – and came face to face with two of the most hideous creatures she had ever seen. One was a man, the other a woman, and though it was clear at first glance that they were apparitions the extent of their wounds made her wretch involuntarily. Their bodies had been mutilated with some manner of sharp object and they trailed blood with every step. It occurred to Vick then that neither of them had arms.

The scream she had tried so hard to sublimate tore itself from her throat.

* * *

><p>Akabane rounded one last corner to his right and slid easily into the next room, a large rectangular room that was nondescript save for the large coal fireplace laid into the floor. It was this that he moved toward first, kneeling right down in the ashes, making no sound; removing one of his white gloves he sifted through the hearth's contents with his outstretched index finger. Just doing a quick scan he counted two femurs, one ulna, and half a ribcage, all clearly human in origin.<p>

It was completely unprecedented that something of such a horrid nature had occurred here, in House Kurosawa, of all places. This was the stronghold of All God's Village, the backbone of a community who knew the meaning of 'stick together' better than any group of people anywhere. Despite their innately mysterious nature and their practice of the forbidden, they had supported one another through and through. And now they were all gone, with only a single renegade left to carry their legacy.

"How?" he mused, sifting through some more ashes, and then he heard the scream.

Akabane was on his feet in an instant, glancing over his shoulder at the door he had assumed Vick would close herself upon coming through after him. It stood partially ajar, and it wasn't until that moment that Akabane realized Vick wasn't anywhere in the room.

Briefly he considered leaving her behind, and then he remembered that she had the camera in her possession. Unwilling to leave his only real weapon against the unholy tenants of the village behind, Akabane backtracked at his quickest speed.

There was only one place where Vick could have wandered off to – the intersecting hallway that led to the left and around another winding corner. The door to the room was closed but Akabane refused to slow, and he drove his shoulder into the surface with all of his strength and momentum. Shockingly, the door did not budge even an inch – Akabane found himself wondering just what sorts of abilities the residents of House Kurosawa had acquired in undeath.

Inside the room, Vick leapt to her right and tucked into a roll, holding the Camera Obscura close to her chest so as not to damage it. Coming up on one knee she raised the camera to fire, but the female ghost leading the way had closed the distance between them faster than she had anticipated and Vick overbalanced, falling onto her rump and scrambling backward.

"AKABANE!"

"I'm here!" he barked, and in a single lightning movement of his right hand he slashed out with another scalpel; the tool sliced the doorknob off, but the door still did not open.

Vick lifted the camera as she lunged left, and slamming into the wall she snapped a picture on the fly; the lead apparition hissed and stumbled back, but when the flash faded both ghosts were still advancing in her direction. She scrabbled back again, snapping a second shot in desperation, but this had perhaps less effect on the ghosts than the first shot. Her back hit the wall. She had nowhere left to go.

Dropping the camera into her lap Vick dug her fingers into her pocket, fishing out the film that she had recovered a few rooms back. With one hand she unloaded the current film and tossed it aside – the ghosts were only three feet away now – and with the other she jammed the new film in its place, not even bothering to close the protective seal before she hefted the camera up before her and sighted down the viewfinder.

The third shot stopped the female ghost in her tracks, but as she was fading away into nothingness the male ghost, previously obscured by the translucent form of its female companion, lurched forward and grasped Vick's shoulder with the spindly fingers of its right hand.

It was as if she had been stabbed with a knife made of ice; the brutal cold sliced through Vick's thin t-shirt and deep beneath her flesh, chilling her to the bone and sapping her of her strength. Gritting her teeth she lifted her right hand – her left was now frozen and did not respond when she attempted to lift it – and managed to snap one more shot with the Camera Obscura.

The moment the ghost vanished in a wisp of smoke the door gave way, and Akabane managed to shoulder his way in. It was fortunate Vick was sitting against a wall, otherwise she would have swooned backward. Akabane did not slip on the fresh blood, but Vick did not find this at all surprising; his eyebrows raised when he set eyes on her, for she was deathly pale and covered in blood. "Enjoying the hazards of exploring on your own?"

Vick choked out a weary laugh; the camera rolled out of her hand and onto the floor. "Oh, you bet." Akabane bent double to retrieve the camera, wiping the flecks of blood off the lens and casing with the sleeve of his black overcoat; Vick eyed him cautiously, and when he glanced back to her she murmured, "Are you leaving me here now?"

He tilted his head to one side in curiosity, exaggerating the angle of his hat as he did so. "Should I be?"

"I assumed that since you got what you wanted – the camera – that you'd be ditching me." She chuckled weakly. "I wouldn't be able to chase you very far."

Akabane surprised her completely by dropping the camera back into her lap, chuckling bemusedly to himself as he moved about the room. "If I'm going to get rid of you, I'd like it to be on my own terms; it would be nice if it were challenging, even."

Vick's reply was flippant, though inwardly her stomach was withering in fear. "Well, everybody loves a good challenge."

There was a small jewelry box, old but ornately carved, sitting on top the chest of drawers; Akabane sifted through this and came up with a wealth of items, including two that he tossed Vick's way. She lacked the strength to catch either, though, and instead watched as they clattered near her. One of the objects rolled until it came to a rest against her outer thigh; it appeared to be a bottle of some kind, and its contents rattled.

"Take two of those," Akabane ordered her, stowing something else in the inside lining of his overcoat, near his breast. "Herbal medicine."

Vick obeyed, and swallowed two of the small white pills dry – she wasn't about to ask for water in such a strange place. The other object had fluttered to the ground only two feet from her right hand, and she reached out to retrieve it; already the jangling of her nerves was subsiding, and she no longer felt as though she had miraculously survived being locked in a freezer for a long period of time. Inside another crumpled envelope she found even better film, all of which she tucked into her pocket. "What did you find?"

"Three different keys. One will get us into the door just off the foyer, and I believe the other two will unlock the family library." Akabane was now rummaging through one of the drawers, tossing children's kimonos everywhere, seemingly oblivious to the pools of blood the garments landed in.

Vick scoffed. "Two keys for a library? These people had their priorities out of order, I think."

At last Akabane rounded back to face her, holding a bundle of cloth in his hands and studying her offhandedly as she made a few adjustments to the camera. Her pallor was acceptable now – herbal medicine worked quite fast – and her movements were more fluid and less shaky. When she glanced up he nodded to the bundle he held. "Would you prefer clean clothes, or would you rather wander about in your… current state?"

Vick glanced down and took stock of herself – her clothes were unsalvageable now, as they were saturated with blood. "I guess it won't matter; I'd bet my life that these people never took the time to install a shower."

Akabane chuckled. "They were always a little preoccupied with keeping the hell gate closed."

Vick struggled to her feet with a little difficulty, and shook the last of the chill off of her body. "Maybe they _did_ have their priorities in order."

* * *

><p>There was no shower – All God's Village had missed out on the technological tidal wave, it seemed – but Akabane led Vick through two rooms and into an indoor atrium. Had the circumstances been different, the place would have been lovely; the atrium was a large indoor garden with a small spring hidden beneath the outer layer of foliage, and a staircase wound around the hidden oasis and up to the second floor. There was no roof here, but the lush trees blocked the chill from reaching the atrium – a light drizzle of rain fell, but it was neither cold nor uncomfortable. Here Vick stripped out of her ruined clothes and washed the blood off of her skin and out of her hair while Akabane explored the upper level; she would have been frightened to be left seemingly all alone, except that she could feel his presence, eerie and ever-intimidating, so she knew he was closer than he seemed. The bundle of cloth he had selected was actually a jade green kimono, inlaid with rich golden threads and a matching sash. Oddly enough it fit her almost perfectly, and it unnerved Vick that Akabane had sized her up so accurately without her even noticing. When she had dressed she slipped her boots back on – the only article of clothing she owned that hadn't been completely ruined in the bloody room – and tied her hair back in a ponytail, then picked her way carefully out of the atrium. Akabane was waiting by the door, his head tilted down and the brim of his hat obscuring his face, and when he heard her approach he wordlessly extended his hand and offered the camera to her.<p>

So the man was unnerving and a complete mystery. She could not altogether avoid brushing his fingers with her own when she reached out to retrieve the camera, and the chill of his skin was just like the chill of coming into contact with a ghost, except that it did not leave her weak and shaking.

He backtracked to the entryway, to the door with the padlock that had turned them away upon entering the house, but this time, he extracted a key from his pocket and the padlock fell away easily enough. They wended through hallways that would have taken Vick weeks to memorize and correctly traverse, but Akabane never slowed and led the way with purpose and confidence. It piqued Vick's curiosity.

"How do you know your way around so well?" she asked, a little demanding.

Akabane snickered and answered derisively, "Intuition."

But Vick would not be so easily swayed. "And this has nothing at all to do with the fact that earlier you mentioned that you used to live here?"

"Ah, I was wondering when you would bring that up." Akabane glanced at her out of the corner of his eye; she was watching him with her lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line, and the corner of his mouth turned upward into a small smirk. "Does nothing escape your attention?"

"In my line of work you learn really fast who's a liar, who's a cheat, and who's a thief. So far I haven't seen any evidence that those last two are accurate descriptions of you, but I don't think that calling you 'dishonest' would be far off the mark, would it?"

Akabane spread his hands innocently. "We acquire the skills that we need to survive or we don't last long in this life, now do we?"

He was back to being difficult, mocking even; Vick resorted to being firm. "Just answer the question."

"Very well. Will a version of the truth do?"

Vick scowled. "The truth doesn't have versions."

Akabane actually laughed, the first time she had ever heard him do so; the sound was completely mirthless and the act of laughing contorted his face strangely. He looked like a deranged man; she wished she could make him stop laughing. "My, my, you are a naïve little child." When his manic laughter had subsided, he continued. "Yes, I used to live here. This was decades ago, though, before you were a thought in your parents' minds."

Vick ignored the quip about her parents and waited for him to elaborate, but he continued traversing the long hallways and did not say another word. After several minutes had passed and he did not speak again she finally exploded, "That's all? Why did you live here? Were you a Kusabi?"

"Yes, that is all. You did not ask me for details so I did not give them to you, though I am pleased to divulge that no, I was not intended to become a Kusabi… for which I am very thankful." He placed his palm against a brown sliding panel and pushed it open as Vick fumed, and finished, "Quiet down now. We're here."

Vick blinked once, taken aback and feeling rather underwhelmed. They stood facing a floor-to-ceiling lattice wall, though its composition seemed closely akin to the door of a prison cell. On the other side stood great bookshelves practically overflowing with musty tomes; twin padlocks barred their entrance, both with a single Japanese character engraved into the metal. Vick knew enough Japanese to understand the characters – one read 'light', the other read 'shadow'. "This is what you've been looking for? But… it looks like a prison cell!"

Akabane set to work on the padlocks, extracting two more keys from his pocket. "Yes. Quaint, isn't it?"

The padlocks fell away and Akabane nudged the door open with the toe of his boot; the door was only four feet tall, and Akabane had to drop to all fours to make it through. Vick made it by stooping, but the feeling of claustrophobia had returned. The room she found herself in was tiny in comparison to many of the others – it was little more than a closet, really, and every available space had been crammed with books. "Is this really the Kurosawa family library?"

"You were expecting the grandest of the grand?" Akabane was already perusing the spines of the books on the first bookshelf facing him, tracing the tip of his forefinger absentmindedly over the spines as he read. Vick peered at the titles under his arm, but gave up almost instantly – the titles were all handwritten, and the characters were Japanese; she couldn't hope to translate them enough to understand. "Now hush. I must concentrate. These books hold the answers we require."

"You're sure?" Vick pressed, but this time, Akabane ignored her.

She stood quietly by for a quarter of an hour while Akabane perused the Kurosawa family library, but presently Vick started to hear strange sounds coming from the room beyond theirs. She glanced out the lattice door, which stood partially open still, through the sliding door, and into the next room, which, for appearances' sake, seemed to be a study; all was still and nothing seemed to be amiss, but Vick was no fool. If she thought she had heard something, she most likely had.

"Did you hear that?" she whispered, but Akabane did not reply as he was so engrossed in his task. Vick rolled her eyes and crept out of the jail-like library, past the sliding door, and into the study. On the low desk was a lit candle – which had previously been unlit, she recalled – illuminating the open pages of a small book… a diary? Against her better judgment Vick circled the desk and crouched down to read the entry.

_Itsuki,_

_I'm so sorry. I want to see you and tell you how sorry I am. I'm sorry about Chitose, too._

"Who's Itsuki?" Vick called, picking up the journal and flipping through its weathered pages.

Akabane lifted his head in recognition, and from the library she heard him ask, "What did you just say?"

"I said, who's Itsuki? And who's Chitose, too, while we're at it?"

Akabane dropped the book he had been reading and took a step toward the door, as at the same moment the sliding door banged shut, separating them. Vick dropped the diary back onto the desk and rushed to the sliding door, grasping the handle and throwing all of her weight behind the door, but it would not budge. She heard Akabane slam into it from the other side, but other than a slight shudder the door still would not give.

"Dammit!" hissed Vick, pounding at the door with her fist, but she knew it was no use. "Akabane! You alright?"

For a moment there was only silence on the other side of the door, and then, quite distinctly, she heard him begin to laugh. "Here now is your opportunity to escape, and to leave me behind. How ironic that the weak should survive and the strong should perish!"

Vick bent at the waist to inspect the sliding door; sure enough there was a keyhole, old fashioned with a brass backing. It didn't seem to resemble any of the keys they had retrieved along the way so far. She retreated to the desk and swiped the diary from its surface, then fished around in the desk's drawers until she came up with a blunt pencil, and flipping to the back of the journal she jotted an accurate replica of the size and shape of the keyhole on an empty page. "Quit laughing, you lunatic, and listen to me. Where would I find a big brass key?"

Akabane's laughter abruptly ceased. "Why?"

"Because it probably matches the keyhole and backing material on this sliding door – really old, and made of brass. If I find it, I can probably get you out of here."

Akabane retreated back into the cramped library, picking up the book he had been skimming before the sliding door had slammed and separated them. These notes – left by the Ceremony Master himself, it appeared – detailed the precise locations of all four pinwheel crests. Not only that, but in the short time that he had been reading he had discovered that the mechanism inside of the Old Tree was wired directly to the secret passageway within the Kureha Shrine – if he solved the puzzle using the pinwheel crests and activated the mechanism, it would break the wards, and he could escape.

"Answer me! Does it sound like any key you know of?"

He returned to the door, his eyes flitting quickly over the passages of the book as he reread and memorized them. "Listen to me; I am going to give you a great deal of information, and there is no time for me to repeat myself. Are you listening?"

"Yes," Vick assured, pressing her ear up against the surface of the door.

"The key to this door should be in the underground passageway beneath the Osaka House – you remember the house you were in before, don't you?"

"Yeah, I remember, but there weren't any stairs leading downstairs! I went everywhere! How the hell am I supposed to - ?"

"Silence!" Akabane growled impatiently, and Vick quieted down immediately, rebuked by the harshness of his tone. "The staircase is hidden. Return to the room where you found the camera and inspect the shrine – you should find a pinwheel crest puzzle inlaid into the altar. Solve the puzzle and it will reveal the staircase leading down into the underground passageway. The key should be somewhere down there."

"Okay!" Vick assured, but she hadn't taken two steps away from the door before Akabane called her back.

"Wait!" he hissed, tracing a line from the book he held with his index finger. "There is something else that you must retrieve while you are in House Osaka – it is of the utmost importance. There is a room that is visible from the entryway – within that room you should find a stray pinwheel crest. It will be hidden well, so you must be vigilant in your search. Bring it back here with you at all costs! Do you understand?"

"Yeah, but why - ?"

"Enough!" Akabane bellowed. "Now go! Quickly!"

Vick scrambled backward in fear, terrified that somehow he would break through the door and throttle her if she did not obey; she dashed out the door they had come through to make it this far and sprinted into the hallway, hoping against hope that she wouldn't get lost navigating her way out of House Kurosawa.

* * *

><p>The hospital room was crowded far beyond its normally acceptable capacity, but the doctors on duty were no longer protesting – Fox had hobbled out of his recovery room and threatened the lives of all of the medical personnel in the east wing, and no one had made an issue of it since. Only Marth, Meta Knight, Shadow, and Lucario were not present – the first two were still in surgery, and the last two were still unconscious - ; the others had gathered despite their injuries, crowding around Wolf's hospital bed, weeping at the mercenary commander's side as he breathed his final breaths.<p>

Fox had practically thrown himself over Wolf, all dignity forgotten as he wept openly; Leon and Falco were attempting to drag him away, but to no avail. "Wait," the vulpine begged, clinging to Wolf's shoulders as if he could simply shake the other man awake. "Wait… please… don't leave me… You bastard! What the hell am I supposed to do without you?!"

"Fox, stop," Midna managed to choke out, but the vulpine's only response was a harsh snapping of his jaws; the Twilight princess flinched back into Silver's arms.

_Wolf,_ called Mewtwo, attempting to delve into the lupine's subconscious with his psychic abilities and garner a response of any kind. _Can you hear me? Can you respond if you hear us?_

Wolf was in a sorry shape indeed; his body was frail and broken, the weakest they had ever seen him before. His two bullet hole wounds had been stitched up and bandaged thoroughly, but this no longer seemed to matter – the bleeding was all internal, they had been told countless times, and it was inevitable that his heart should fail. There was no way to slow, much less altogether stop, this painful process.

"Guys," Sonic put in delicately, his eyes flitting nervously to each member of the household in turn, "I think at this point that it would be a good idea to start saying our goodbyes."

Fox practically flung himself at the azure-quilled hedgehog; only Leon's death grip on his forearm kept him from tearing Sonic's throat out with his powerful jaws. "No! How can you say that?! Take it back! Wolf is the toughest guy I have ever known and he'll pull out of this! He can make it through, I know he can – "

Yami cleared his throat, his eyes fixed upon a point very near to Wolf's right side; several of the others turned their attentions to Blaze, who had taken up occupancy in the visitor's chair pulled right up to the lupine's bedside. She had taken Wolf's swiftly-cooling hand in both of her own, and tears were coursing silently from her golden eyes.

"Were it not for you, I would no longer be a part of this world," she murmured thickly, sniffling a little as she paused to draw a shaky breath. "It breaks my heart that I will never have the opportunity to repay you for your extraordinary act of kindness. All I can do is say thank you, and wish you Godspeed. I pray that your journey to the other side be a safe one… and that perhaps one day I will find myself where you are, and thank you properly."

"No," Fox wept miserably, pounding one fist half-heartedly upon Wolf's ruined chest. "Please…"

All around the others were clapping Wolf on the shoulder, kissing his forehead, his cheeks, his hands… Mewtwo was the only one who heard, quite keenly, the moment Wolf's heart stopped beating and did not beat again.

* * *

><p>From a very dark place, Wolf heard very faint voices.<p>

"_Wait… please… don't leave me… You bastard! What the hell am I supposed to do without you?!"_ The voice belonged to Fox McCloud, once Wolf's greatest rival and now his single greatest adventure; the lupine willed his heart to beat a little faster at the sound, but he was floating far away, borne upon silent black waves toward an unfamiliar distant shore.

"_Don't cuss at me, kid,"_ Wolf desperately wanted to say, but his lungs were breathless and his lips couldn't form the words. _"Do you really think this is what I wanted? To die fighting those bastards? It can't be my time, goddammit, I'm only… You know what, on second thought, let's not talk about my age."_

The next voice was a woman's… Midna's? Maybe Rosalina's? Everything was so fuzzy, so blurry, so close and yet so very far away… _"Fox, stop."_

"_Thanks," _Wolf wanted to say, but the words were lost upon the gentle lapping of the dark waves as he neared the strange white shore. _"I'm glad somebody set him straight; for some reason I can't, and he's always been an uppity little shit."_

"_Wolf, can you hear me? Can you respond if you hear us?" _The next voice might have belonged to Mewtwo, or perhaps Lucario, because it reached further than all of the others but still fell just short of reaching him, wherever he was. It rolled pleasantly along the black waves, perhaps just out of reach.

"_Yeah, I hear you,"_ Wolf called out tiredly, and he folded his hands upon his chest and lay his head back upon… what was that behind his head? A feather pillow? The softest, fluffiest cloud? _"I'm just so tired… Just let me rest for awhile. Don't I deserve that much? I mean, come on – I saved somebody's life. For the first time in my life, it wasn't me doing the killing. I'm a fucking hero." _God, he had never been so comfortable in his entire life.

That was how he knew he was dying.

There were other voices wafting into his aural perception, but they were beginning to seem less significant and more of a nuisance… The waves were so gentle that they were luring him deeper to sleep. Wolf closed his eyes, comfortable, at peace. And then one voice pierced through the hazy calm, the feeling of serenity that was numbing all of his senses like the most potent painkiller; it streaked through the vast distance and found its mark: his heart. "_Were it not for you, I would no longer be a part of this world. It breaks my heart that I will never have the opportunity to repay you for your extraordinary act of kindness. All I can do is say thank you, and wish you Godspeed. I pray that your journey to the other side be a safe one… and that perhaps one day I will find myself where you are, and thank you properly."_

Wolf's eyes snapped open and he sat up, whipping his head all around; he was situated in the center of a narrow, ornately-carved canoe made of rich ebony wood, with all of his war medals and accolades laid on or near his body. The gently-lapping waves continued to bear him forward, and as he watched, now horrified, the bow of the canoe bumped against the white sandy shoreline. All else was still and silent – but how could that be? He had heard Blaze's voice as clearly as if she had spoken the words directly into his ear! Where was she? Why couldn't he see her?

Some intuitive sense told him in no uncertain terms that the white sandy beach was the beginning of his last great adventure – his eternal life on the other side. Funny – he had expected flames, coffins, hellhounds, and a wealth of other tortures… it seemed unprecedented that one good deed had earned him this, the peace and respite that he had always secretly yearned for. Now that he was here, though, and the despairing angel's voice was so far behind him, he no longer wanted any of it.

The only alternative was to fight – to throw away the tranquility that he had so courageously earned and subject himself to excruciating pain.

But he had known pain in his life.

He would fight.

Unthinkingly he threw himself from the canoe and into the water; the black waves may have looked inviting and gentle, but the moment he came in contact with the mildly rolling tide Wolf discovered differently. Plunging into the water was like throwing himself into a pit of razor blades; they bit at his flesh greedily and tore their way through the muscle and sinew with agonizing slowness, gradually slicing their way to bones that were already shattered. Wolf screamed, but no sound came out. He worked his arms and legs furiously against the tide, but his body had already betrayed him and would move no more.

"_No!" _Wolf shrieked. _"Wait! They need me! I have to go back!" _He struggled valiantly to paddle, but all the effort was in vain. _"Please… I don't want to die!"_

The pain was too much; he was so tired that it wasn't worth it to fight anymore. His battered body washed helplessly up onto the white sandy shore, and with a last despairing sob Wolf allowed himself to fall limp. The pain ceased instantly, as though it had never been, and the sense of peace and comfort washed over him like Novocain.

As his knowledge of the world, his memory of his life, and his sense of self all became scattered upon a sudden relaxing breeze, Wolf closed his eyes and managed to form one last coherent thought: _"I would give anything to go back and set things right."_

He begrudgingly opened his eyes, expecting to see his glorious afterlife spread out before him.

The scene had changed.

Wolf was no longer lying on the pale white shore with the black waves licking at his legs; he was on his back, supported by empty space, floating over an endless black abyss with swirling gray mist below him. There were eerie purple flames burning everywhere, but there were no sconces or fireplaces for them to burn in; they simply floated, just as Wolf was floating. There was nothing else, just an endless expanse of wide open space that was utterly fathomless. He had also been stripped of his clothes, but he had never been a particularly modest man so this did not bother him. The extent of his injuries – two bullet holes, one on either side of his chest – were painfully obvious to him now, and he felt certain that if his heart were still beating it would have skipped a few beats.

"_Of course I didn't survive," _Wolf sighed in exasperation. _"None of the guys would have. Hell, looks like one of those shots might've hit my heart. I had no chance."_

"_That really depends," _observed a cool, smooth voice that Wolf didn't know, _"on how you look at things."_

Wolf turned his head to the right – the movement caused him no pain – and watched as a tall, lithe figure melted out of the curtains of swirling mist. He was dressed very suave in a black suit with long coattails, a white undershirt, a simple black tie, black dress shoes and white satin gloves. Black hair lay straight over his face, rather like wannabe punk rockers wore theirs but refined, somehow, and it partially obscured his glowing red eyes. His skin was pale, and his lips were curled only slightly into a bemused, knowing smile. Wolf thought he looked like a maitre d', perhaps, or a butler.

**NEWCOMER: SEBASTIAN**

_(Kuroshitsuji)_

"_How the hell am I supposed to look at things?"_ Wolf snapped irritably. _"Look, I don't really have time for this."_

"_On the contrary,"_ murmured the man in the suit, _"you seem to have nothing _but _time."_ To accentuate his point he waved one white-gloved hand around to indicate their surroundings; Wolf could easily see what he meant. There really was nothing around but violet flame, and silver mist.

"_What happened to the sand, and the ocean?"_ Wolf demanded. _"Because if this is my reward after I threw myself in front of a bullet to save some chick that once lit my ass on fire, I'm demanding a refund."_

The black-haired man wearing the suit continued to smile demurely, as if nothing was amiss, but Wolf wasn't buying it; there was a hungry sort of look in the man's ruby eyes that didn't match the disarming act that he was trying to pull off. He was standing one step closer to Wolf than two unfamiliar people generally cared to stand, and his eyes were surveying Wolf's naked body with an unerring interest. Wolf had the uncomfortable feeling that he was being x-rayed by the man's keen gaze, and silently wished that he was fully clothed. Finally the man condescended to speak, though his eyes continued their roving.

"_This will be your afterlife," _he answered cryptically. _"But only if you wish it to be."_

Wolf raised an eyebrow, considering what this might mean, but he knew that he was on the brink of death and therefore wasn't feeling very patient. He had no interest in beating around the bush and wasn't about to let this strange man delay the beginning of his afterlife any longer than necessary. _"Okay, I'll bite. What the fuck are you talking about? If you're here to torture me, let's get this shit over with. If I'm dead, I wanna rest. Capiche?"_

The man in the suit stifled a little chuckle behind one of his white-gloved hands, but did not keep Wolf waiting for his answers. _"You have reached the other shore, where your life begins eternal. The acts you committed that led to your death were commendable, but one good deed is not enough to erase the lifetime of sins you have accrued. Lies, theft, and murder have followed your every step… your life will not begin anew on the sands of the other shore. Your life begins here, in this hellish expanse, where nothing but torment awaits you."_

"_You paint a pretty picture," _Wolf snorted derisively, trying to appear unimpressed, but deep inside he was afraid.

The mildly bemused smile widened to a minute degree. _"I was to be your tormentor," _the man admitted, _"but just before your life ended I heard you say something of great interest to me. That is the only reason I have not yet devoured your pathetic, meaningless soul."_

His eyes flitted up to Wolf's, and for an indeterminable period of time they were content merely to stare at one another. Finally, when Wolf could speak past the lump in his throat, he did so. _"What did I say?"_

"_You said that you would give anything to go back and set things right." _The man in the suave black suit began pacing a slow circle around Wolf's still hovering form, never taking his hungry gaze off the lupine's body. It was oddly unsettling, but Wolf knew somehow, instinctively, that he should not protest. _"Now why would you, a man who has lived his life as a killer-for-hire with the worst of intentions, desire such a thing? What have you left behind that is worth returning to?"_

Wolf was highly affronted by these observations – surely he wasn't as cold-hearted as this man was leading him to believe? _"I have to make sure the other guys are alright – they're like my family. We've been through a lot of crazy shit together, and it would mean a lot to me to know that they all survived."_

"_You will have to do better than that," _said his eternal tormentor remorselessly. _"For I can tell you now that they have all survived that ordeal."_

A wash of relief flooded Wolf's insides; he found it strange that, somehow, he had retained the capacity to feel. _"I have to find out what happened to Vick. She's a good kid – maybe a little misguided, but she's got a good heart. If anything happened to her on my watch… I'd never forgive myself."_

"_She is indisposed at the moment,"_ answered the suited man evasively, _"but she is alive."_

"_I'd ask how you know all this shit," _Wolf snorted, _"but I think I know. Omniscient?"_

The man's answer was nonchalant. _"Perhaps something like that."_

"_But if you're about to make a meal out of my soul, I'm guessing you're not exactly the Lord's right hand man, are you?"_

The ruby eyes twinkled, half amused by Wolf's shrewdness and half impatient. _"A keen observation."_

"_Then here's my reason to go back." _Wolf had initially thought that his would-be torturer would be more impressed with the good-hearted intentions of a true devotee, but clearly the mercenary commander wasn't dealing with a creature of God. Now he was hoping that a different approach would appeal to the suited man's tastes. _"Those guys Legato and Wesker… they got away, didn't they?"_

A small nod followed his question. Wolf wasn't surprised.

"_And eventually they'll catch wind of the fact that everybody but me survived – that guy Legato wants us all dead, and the only way we'll win is if we all stand together and fight harder than we ever have. They'll need me to get the job done. So let me go back and help them. That's really all that matters to me now."_

The man in the stylish black suit paused near Wolf's feet; his red eyes were glimmering interestedly, as though Wolf had said something that he found terribly fascinating. Wolf dared to hope that this answer, secretly his single greatest regret, would be sufficient enough to grant him one more shot at life. _"I have the power to grant you what you wish."_

"_Excellent. Then get me the hell out of here – you're creeping me out big time, and I want my clothes."_

"_Ah, ah."_ He held one slender white finger up to his pale lips, derailing Wolf's train of thought. _"It isn't as simple as all that."_

"_Of course it isn't. It never is."_

"_If this is truly what you desire, I would be willing to postpone your punishment. As promised, I will return you to life – I will even heal your wounds, and grant you my aid. However, I demand payment for my services. When your life's labors are complete and your life again comes to a close, I will take from you what now, by all rights, is mine – your soul."_

Wolf blinked, bewildered. _"That's it? You want my soul? That's fine; I don't give a shit. I'll be dead, what the hell will I need my soul for anyway?"_

"_A soulless entity is purposeless, meaningless. It is the soul that lives on when the body has died – in completing your task, you would normally be granted the peaceable afterlife that you have wished for. But if you agree to this contract and your soul becomes mine, I will utterly destroy it. You will cease to exist, unable to live eternally on the other shore."_ The red eyes brightened; in the man's pale face they looked otherworldly, demonic. _"You will never see your friends again, not even when they pass on."_

That gave Wolf pause. To cease to exist… to never see his friends again… that thought was truly terrifying. He considered, albeit briefly, turning down his torturer's proposition and subjecting himself to the eternal punishment that was awaiting him – then, at least, he would keep his soul, and be able to hear his friends' laughter in his head for as long as he could remember them. But he didn't think that he was strong enough to live without them – not yet, not now that he knew just how miserable life without them really was.

He was willing to pay his soul, to submit himself to nothingness, in exchange for a little more time with them, and one more shot at vengeance.

"_You're on," _Wolf answered, and when his voice came out shaky he firmed his jaw. _"I'll do it."_

"_Very well."_ The man with the demonic eyes flashed a fang-filled smile and drew uncomfortably near to Wolf's right side, momentarily laying his left hand over the empty socket where Wolf's right eye had once been. When he drew back something red blazed on the back of his pale left hand, but Wolf had no time to perceive it; an excruciating pain shot through Wolf's empty right socket and his screams of pain reverberated throughout the fathomless black space. As his surroundings blurred and became nondescript, Wolf thought he heard the man in the black suit say something else, but he wasn't certain:

"_I'll see you soon."_

Fifty-three seconds after the heart monitor shrieked that he had flat-lined, to the complete and total shock of his grieving friends, Wolf O'Donnell opened his eyes.


	18. The One With the Demon Butler

As she ran, Vick ran over every morsel of information in her mind until she was certain every detail was cemented in her memory. Twice she rounded wrong turns, but the moment she realized that her surroundings were unfamiliar she backtracked and took off again, never slowing despite the tightening in her chest and her quickened breathing. All around her, House Kurosawa was maddeningly silent, not filled with the eerie sounds of numerous ghouls lurking within the nearby shadows. Before, Vick would have been thankful for the silence; now, she simply found it more unnerving than the din.

It took less than half the time Vick had assumed it would for her to reach the entrance of the house, and when she reached the double doors she shoved her way through and pounded through the courtyard toward the bridge. The midnight air was heavy with an unnatural chill that was very unlike the summer season, and goosebumps prickled on Vick's arms despite the voluminous sleeves of the kimono she now wore. As she sprinted the length of the bridge, Akabane's parting words echoed in her mind.

"_There is a room that is visible from the entryway – within that room you should find a stray pinwheel crest. It will be hidden well, so you must be vigilant in your search. Bring it back here with you at all costs!"_

She wondered again what it meant, and why such a seemingly insignificant trinket was so obviously important to Akabane, but she didn't ask too many questions. Akabane might be a lot of things, she knew – sadistic, dangerous, and terrifying foremost among them – but he knew far more about the village than she did. If he said they needed the pinwheel crest, then she would be damned if she came back without it. Abruptly, Akabane's instructions flitted brokenly through her memory; she tried hard to focus on them as she ran.

"_The staircase is hidden… Return to the room where you found the camera… Solve the puzzle… The underground passageway… The key… Somewhere down there."_

"What… the hell… is a… pinwheel puzzle?" Vick hissed to herself between sharp intakes of breath, turning a sharp left past the ruined wall where the rusty sickle still protruded in the center of a stain of red. "Nice of… him to… give me… some clues."

She skidded to a sudden stop outside the entrance to House Osaka, the fingers of her left hand curled tightly around the Camera Obscura and her teeth gnawing nervously on her bottom lip. Failure to complete the tasks that Akabane had charged her with meant more than just a lifetime of imprisonment for Akabane – Vick knew now that, without his knowledge of the village on her side, there was next to no chance that she would escape. She had to obtain the key that would free him at all costs – and secure this pinwheel crest too, whatever it was.

Steeling herself, Vick turned the knob and re-entered the house where her nightmare had begun.

* * *

><p>Seemingly oblivious to the wide-eyed and slack-jawed faces turned in his direction, Wolf sat up and took great joy in tearing the life support equipment from his body. The moment the heart monitor was disconnected, its shrill, single-tone beep flared to life in the room again, signaling another flat line; Wolf reached over, unable to suppress a manic cackle, and punched the machine squarely in the electrical readout. The glass covering the readout cracked under the force behind his fist and the beeping abruptly ceased.<p>

Finally, Wolf glanced up to regard those gathered around him – more than one face was ghostly pale, and several sets of eyes had slipped from his face down to his bare and bloodied chest. He followed their gazes himself, curious as to what had drawn their attention.

A strange sensation swept over him, uncomfortable but not altogether unpleasant – the two laser bullet wounds were mending themselves. Deep inside his chest he felt his own heart splutter spasmodically, as though it had just realized it wasn't beating and had decided that now was the time to get back to work; the beating was slow and erratic at first – it was almost like the organ couldn't remember how to perform its most basic function – and then steady and strong, the familiar tattoo of a man in peak physical shape. As he watched, morbidly fascinated, the neat little hole in the right side of his chest closed itself; the flesh knitted together, leaving behind a dark gray scar about three quarters of an inch in length. He was irked when the fur didn't grow back to cover it, but the irritation he felt passed quickly.

The hole in the left side of his chest was a bit slower to heal, but only by a handful of seconds. It left a slightly bigger scar, and that patch, too, was hairless. Again, he was annoyed for only the span of a few heartbeats. What did it matter? These were certainly not his first scars, and now they would become his most impressive. Besides, chicks loved scars. It made them feel like they were getting involved with something dangerous, or whatever. That whole "walk-on-the-wild-side" mentality.

Wolf was about to stand – what the hell did he still need to be in a hospital bed for? – when the door to his hospital room opened smoothly to admit a tall, slim doctor. At least, he had the appearance of a doctor – he was wearing the sterile white coat, toting a clipboard, and had a stethoscope hanging around his neck – but Wolf wasn't fooled. He recognized the man at once; same fine black hair, same piercing eyes, same quietly bemused expression. The "doctor" paused just inside the door, his white-gloved hand lingering upon the knob as he surveyed Wolf over the rims of his small spectacles. Wolf cocked his head to one side, awaiting an explanation. Silence filled the room, residual shock and mounting impatience all rolled into one.

Finally, Wolf caved. "Gotta say, when you said 'I'll see you soon', I didn't think that translated to 'I'll be walking in your door in twenty seconds'."

The "doctor" offered a little bow, barely dipping his head, but Wolf didn't miss the significance of the gesture. "Please forgive the lateness of my arrival."

"This is late for you?" Wolf was jittery now with barely contained glee, but only the sparkle in his eye betrayed his excitement. "Long line at customs or something? Did they check your green card?"

His "doctor" lifted one slender-fingered hand and stifled a small chuckle into the back of it. "Ah… sarcasm is not simply your defense mechanism in the face of death. It is your general demeanor."

"That's right. Regretting this arrangement yet?"

"Not at all." He surveyed Wolf impassively, almost possessively; the protectiveness that shone already in his eyes rattled the lupine. "I am pleased to have entered into this contract, and I assure you that any task you give me will be carried out in a way that will surely exceed your expectations."

"It had better." Wolf's elation receded somewhat as the memory of what this arrangement had cost him rose to the surface. He bared his canines threateningly. "Because if I agreed to this… after what I had to give up…"

A second small bow served to dismiss Wolf's growing anger. "Fear not, sir. These concerns of yours are unfounded." Straightening out of his bow the "doctor" at last seemed to realize that there were other people present, all listening to the strange conversation with incredulous expressions. He cleared his throat politely. "Now if you'll excuse me, I shall wait for you in the hallway. I think perhaps you have some explaining to do."

He turned to exit, but Wolf's voice accosted him. "Wait a second. You got a name, or am I supposed to make one up for you?"

A chuckle, followed by the bemused reply of "Sebastian, at your service" was all that Wolf heard before the door closed behind him.

When he turned back to face his friends, it was to find that every single one of them had taken on the complexion of a sheet of paper. To add insult to injury, he chose to break the ice in the most insensitive way he could think of. "Wow, you guys look like hell. Who died?" And he threw his head back and laughed at his own phenomenally hilarious joke – which, of course, no one else could even begin to understand.

"How… What…" stammered Silver, unsure of how to continue.

"What… just happened?" Midna managed to ask, but her face suggested that she was confused by her own question.

Wolf decided, for the time being, that the smartest course of action would be to play dumb. "What do you mean, what just happened? Don't tell me I missed something important – after all that shit that went down with Wesker and Legato, I honestly don't think I could take any more crazy shenanigans for at least the next month."

_She means,_ Mewtwo clarified slowly, struggling to remain calm, _What just happened to you?_

"Me?" repeated Wolf, doing his best to sound innocent and uninformed – this was not his best act, and very few among their number believed it even for a moment. "Erm… I was unconscious, wasn't I?"

More than one pair of eyes flitted around the room, locking gazes with other searching stares, judging the situation silently before getting too excitable over it. Wolf's thoughts raced faster than they ever had before, wondering just how he could possibly talk his way out of this one; even a person with a laughably low IQ could see that something extraordinary had just occurred. After all, people didn't just come back from the grave and resume their perfectly healthy lives, did they?

Well, not as far as any of his friends knew, anyway.

"Yeah," Sonic admitted, with the air of someone talking to a person with comprehension issues. "You were unconscious for hours… since before we even got to the hospital, but… Wolf, that was your deathbed, man." The blue hedgehog paused just long enough to indicate the hospital bed that Wolf was sitting on the edge of; Wolf noticed that his finger trembled slightly. "We were all here, we all watched you flatline… "

_I am certain I heard your heart stop beating_, Mewtwo insisted. _For at least a full minute. Perhaps longer._

Wolf barked out a laugh, though inside his heart was hammering away madly. He had never lied to this many people at once before, on a topic so serious. He had only two options: confess his lies and start admitting the truth, or plow forward with lie after lie until he either ran out of plausible falsities or forced them to buy his ridiculous stories. He chose the latter. "Legato must've really fucked you up then, M-2… did your doctors do that goofy little hearing test? The one they used to administer to every preschooler in the galaxy? Might be in your best interest to get that done…"

"Enough," Blaze cut in, shaking her head furiously and struggling to comprehend. "Sonic is right – we have all been here, observing the swift decline of your health. I watched the life leave your body with my own eyes. We all felt death in this room. It is inconceivable that you could make a recovery of this magnitude."

"I'm with Blaze," put in Falco. "When you die, you die. You don't die for a few minutes and then make a complete one-eighty turn-around. I've seen enough death and destruction in my tenure as a Loyalist to know that that just doesn't happen, dude. No way."

"Well, then, which one of you is the die-hard bible-thumper who saved me?" Wolf asked in fake earnest, glancing to each of them in turn. "Who appealed to the good Lord's merciful side? 'Cause if I was in as bad a shape as you say, somebody's prayers must've been answered. Who knew? Miracles do happen. It isn't just some religious bullshit. So come on! Out with it! Who joined a convent while I was sleeping?"

"Wolf…" began Sonic admonishingly, but he trailed off when the lupine looked up at him expectantly.

"Got ordained through the internet?"

"This isn't funny, Wolf," snarled Fox, looking infuriated yet still somehow relieved.

"Became a nun?" Wolf winked at Blaze. "Was it you, babe?"

Blaze just couldn't help it; at the word 'babe' her eyes flashed with anger and she darted forward to slap Wolf across the cheek. The force of the blow was laughable – no one physically attacked Wolf O'Donnell with the intention to actually maim him, as he was built like a truck – and didn't even turn his head, but Wolf found that he was actually grateful she had struck him. He felt, quite keenly, the amusingly mediocre sting her hand had left on his cheek, the first indicator that he was truly alive – he could still feel pain.

He couldn't help it – he smiled his menacing smile right at Blaze and said, "Now there's the girl I remember."

Seeing that Blaze was prepared to strike again Silver laid a hand upon her shoulder, frowning heavily down at Wolf; Blaze's cheeks were pink with fury. "You are so uncouth!"

"And you cried over my dead body," Wolf pointed out, feeling infinitely superior. "Bet you feel like a fucking moron!"

Wolf knew he had slipped up when Leon took a minute step forward, bringing himself to the front of the group so that he could say, "There, commander – you just said it yourself. Your 'dead' body." Wolf watched the light of understanding dawn in everyone's eyes and had to fight back the urge to curse his own carelessness; Leon went on. "You didn't just flatline – your wounds mended themselves. You can't explain that away."

"Like I said," Wolf re-iterated with a shrug. "Divine intervention."

Falco's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Okay… say that the good Lord answered someone's prayers and all that – doubtful, first off, seeing as how nobody here is exactly a devout believer or anything, but let's go with the benefit of the doubt. What's up with your hella sexy doctor? The guy that called himself Sebastian? Your conversation just now didn't exactly make sense."

Yami latched on right away. "That's right… what was all that about a contract? And you said yourself that you had to give something up…"

They just weren't going to let it go. Wolf shook his head and threw up his hands in surrender, saying, "Look, I don't really know what's going on myself, so until I do, give it a rest, alright? Besides – why is nobody happy just to see that I'm alive?" He snapped his glare upon Blaze. "Where's the thank you? Because I'm pretty sure one of those bullets I took was for you."

"Wolf…" Sonic started, and his wasn't the only face looking suddenly guilty; Wolf, however, wouldn't listen to a word of it."

"No! Shut the hell up, all of you. I've had enough." Wolf shoved through the crowd of people still lingering around his hospital bed – the bed that, just a few short minutes ago, had been his final resting place. The mere thought made him want to douse the sheets in kerosene and set the whole room on fire. "The way I see it, we've got too much shit to do to be arguing over just how I got back up after getting my ass kicked. I want to find Wesker and Legato and give them hell – and we still have to find Vick, don't we? So excuse me while I prioritize. You guys wanna waste your time doubting me, you go right ahead. I've got more important shit to deal with."

"Wolf, it isn't like that…" someone called beseechingly, but he didn't even care to find out who it was.

"Bite me," he growled, and he threw open the door and stepped out of the hospital room.

* * *

><p>Wolf led the way out of his hospital room, not at all surprised to find Sebastian, still clad in his doctor's attire, waiting patiently just beside the door for him. Wolf cocked his head to one side, a signal that Sebastian should fall into step beside him, and as the others went their separate ways the lupine led Sebastian into a semi-dark, vacant waiting room. It was here that he rounded on the man that, for all intents and purposes, literally held his soul in his hands. Wolf even set his hands on his hips in defiance, though he was certain that Sebastian wouldn't be even the least bit intimidated by this foolish show of bravado.<p>

"Alright, let me get a few questions out before everything goes haywire – 'cause that's exactly what's gonna happen the second we all leave the hospital," Wolf growled. "First of all…"

The mercenary commander paused as his hand shot up to the empty socket behind the eyepatch he wore; the memory of a strange pain made itself known with startling clarity, and Wolf winced at the intensity of it. "Just what the hell did you do to me?"

Sebastian shed his doctor's coat; his perfectly-tailored butler's coat became visible the moment he let the white coat drop to the ground behind him. "I merely branded you with the symbol of our contract."

Wolf rolled his eye to the ceiling, annoyed. "Put that in terms I can understand, would you?"

"Certainly." Sebastian tossed the stethoscope negligently over his shoulder, not at all concerned when it struck and subsequently overturned a lamp in one corner; painstakingly he peeled the white glove off his left hand, revealing one alabaster hand with perfectly manicured black nails. On the back of his hand appeared a very strange symbol – it was an occult brand of some kind, Wolf knew, but his knowledge of occultism was sketchy at best and he could never hope to identify it. Fortunately, Sebastian continued his explanation then. "This is the symbol of our contract – you and I will both wear it upon our bodies until the moment the contract has been fulfilled; that is, the moment your soul becomes mine."

A shiver coursed down Wolf's spine; through sheer strength of will, he managed not to tremble.

"You felt a pain in your empty eye socket the moment I touched you?" Sebastian inquired politely, and Wolf nodded to indicate that he had. "That is because I left proof of our contract there. While you wear the symbol of our contract upon your body, our destinies will be irrevocably intertwined. Think of the symbol as a link that connects us – for instance, if you were to become imperiled, and you called for me, I would appear at your side in but a moment. The distance between us is not a factor." Seeing that Wolf was mystified at this news, Sebastian continued. "Also, because I am bound to you by this symbol, I must perform any task you give to me; the power of the contract makes it altogether impossible for me to refuse you."

Wolf rubbed his chin, considering the news very carefully before testing out the theory. "So basically you're saying that you're at my constant beckon call?"

Sebastian dipped another one of his small, elegant bows. "Precisely."

"So if I were to ask you to get me a new pair of boots – "

"What size do you wear?" Sebastian cut in smoothly, resisting the urge to smile at Wolf's simplistic commands.

" – Or to make me a sandwich – "

"Would you prefer white or wheat bread?"

" – Or to kick the shit out of Wesker and Legato – "

"Do you wish to watch their deaths with your own eyes, or would you trust me to carry out your bidding in a way that I am certain would please you?" snickered Sebastian, a sadistic gleam in his eyes now.

Wolf let out a harsh, grating laugh, and when the sound had faded so too had any lingering traces of suspicion he may have felt toward Sebastian. "Excellent," he cackled, rubbing his hands gleefully together like a villain in vaudeville. "I think I'm gonna like this contract thing. I especially like the thought of sending you off to kill Wesker and Legato… after all the shit they've put us through the last few days, I really feel like we owe them one."

Sebastian replaced the white glove upon his hand, subsequently hiding the symbol of their contract as he did so, and reached up to remove the thin spectacles he wore. He briefly squeezed his hand and then relaxed it; even that seemingly insignificant movement reduced the glasses to what could only be described as a pile of fine silver sand. This he tossed over his shoulder; Wolf watched it shimmer like diamond dust as it fell. Brushing his gloves together to rid the material of any lingering particles Sebastian said, "Just give me the order, Mr. O'Donnell, and I will carry out your wishes."

Wolf opened his mouth somewhat triumphantly to make the call, but he hesitated. The entire reason he had been given a second chance at life at all was because of his desire to exact revenge on the men that were responsible for the carnage that had occurred at Brawlers Mansion – if he told Sebastian to kill them now, wouldn't the terms of their contract be filled, allowing Sebastian to devour Wolf's soul whenever he saw fit? And was that really the way Wolf wanted to settle this score anyway? Sebastian was a neutral entity whom Wesker and Legato knew nothing about. Sebastian hadn't been wronged. Wolf and his friends had. They should be the ones to set things right.

Besides, Wolf wasn't ready to die again just yet.

When Wolf spoke, it was in carefully measured sentences. "I'm not sure if you're trying to trick me into getting my business over with quick so that you can have you soul snack or not – and quite frankly, I don't care – but if that's your goal, it's not gonna work like that. I didn't come back here just to pass my responsibilities off on someone else – getting rid of Wesker and Legato is our problem, so we'll handle it. In the meantime, here's what I want you to do – find them. They've got to be hiding out somewhere, and it can't be too far away from here. Figure out where the hell their hideout is, and try to bring back any information that would be helpful to us in getting rid of them."

Another one of those polite little bows – Wolf was already annoyed with them. "Yes, Mr. O'Donnell. I will get to work straight away."

Sebastian turned to leave, but Wolf's voice called him back. "You are not to engage them in battle, is that clear? I want them both alive when I get my hands on them."

This time, Sebastian didn't turn when he offered his response. "Of course."

Then the mysterious butler ghosted down the hallway and out of sight, leaving Wolf to curse the deal he had made. It was all fine and good to be back in the world of the living, but he didn't trust his new butler and didn't think he ever would.

* * *

><p>Alone in the Kurosawa family library, Akabane settled in for a long wait in the most productive way he could think of – expending all of his time and concentration pouring over the numerous texts to the Ceremony Master had left behind. Truly, it was an impressive chronology of the years that he had missed – every day of even the slightest importance had been meticulously dated and catalogued. The information Akabane gleaned in just the first five minutes was astounding.<p>

After the ritual that he had participated in, there had been three others – the first fell upon a year in which no twins in the village were prepared to cleanse the hell gate, which normally would have called for a Kusabi to be used – except that no outsiders were being held in the village for this purpose. The Ceremony Master, Ryokan Kurosawa, rather than allow the civilians to suffer the inevitable cataclysm that would follow if the hell gate spilled over, seized the only option left to him – use a pair of twins that we considered "underage" for the ritual. Hot bile bubbled in the back of Akabane's throat as he read about the sacrifice of Azami Kiryu, strangled to death at the hands of her twin sister Akane, but disgust turned to fascination when he learned that the Kiryu house leader, Yoshitatsu, had crafted a doll in the exact likeness of Azami in order to comfort the grief-stricken Akane. The evil spirit of Azami fed off Akane's feeble life force until it gained a second cursed life of its own – the ghost of Azami had then proceeded to murder every remaining member of House Kiryu.

The shocking revelations did not end there. Next was the ritual performed by Mutsuki and Itsuki Tachibana, twin boys whom Akabane had befriended as a child. Their ritual had been unsuccessful – Itsuki had attempted to sacrifice Mutsuki but failed. The tragedy following these events turned out to be too much for poor Itsuki to bear, as Akabane would later read.

The last recorded ritual of All God's Village was performed by Yae and Sae Kurosawa, though this ritual set off an explosive chain of events that would alter the course of the village's teachings and practices forever. Unable to accept her fate, Yae had abandoned her twin in the village and escaped through the woods with the help of Itsuki; Sae had attempted to flee with her and failed, only to be caught by the townsfolk. Concerned for her whereabouts Itsuki had returned, only to be captured and imprisoned for his blasphemous act. Ashamed of the part he had played in Yae's departure and Sae's soon-to-be gruesome fate, Itsuki had taken his own life. Desperate, Ryokan Kurosawa had performed the ritual using his daughter Sae alone.

The results were disastrous. The ceremony did not cleanse the ground – quite the contrary the hell gate erupted, not in the least appeased by the botched sacrifice. The hell gate had then sent forth an unholy emissary of its choosing to exact revenge upon the hapless citizens of All God's Village – Sae Kurosawa, the forsaken twin. Sae's ghost had mercilessly butchered every soul in the village with the help of a particularly malevolent Kusabi – Seijiro Makabe – and together they had reduced the village to a place of eternal damnation, where angry and unfulfilled spirits roamed in search of the next successful ritual.

Stunned by all he had learned Akabane actually let the tome slip from his fingertips, oblivious to the sound of the book as it thudded to the floor, ignoring the great cloud of dust it kicked up upon impact.

"Treason," he murmured to himself. "Abomination."

It couldn't be possible. His mind refused to accept it. Sae Kurosawa.

His own sister.

* * *

><p>Link was hard at work demolishing a small dish of vanilla soft serve from the hospital cafeteria when a polite knock sounded at the door to his private room. The sugar was doing him a world of good – he felt better already, and the weakness was gradually subsiding – but he didn't feel like getting out of bed just yet so he called, "Come on in!" He must have looked like a prize idiot, with the plastic spoon dangling out of the corner of his mouth and ice cream dribbling down his chin, when Lucario stumbled in to visit him.<p>

Link swallowed and mopped his face clean with the sleeve of his hospital gown, but in his hurry to appear presentable he gave himself a brain freeze; his face was scrunched up unattractively when the Aura Guardian moved closer, and couldn't help but laugh at himself.

"Er… hi," Link greeted lamely, and wished he had the energy to kick himself.

Lucario chuckled at the awkwardness of the Hylian's greeting, but the sound was feeble and almost devoid of mirth. _Hello._

It occurred to Link then just how frail Lucario appeared, and the slight greenish tint beneath the fine azure fur that made Lucario appear quite sickly. He felt his brow furrow in concern and set his dish aside, ice cream all but forgotten already. "Whoa, should you be out of bed right now?! Falco told me when I came around that you were in a coma… what the hell are you doing up and about?!"

_Clearly I am no longer in a coma_, Lucario pointed out stubbornly, and Link couldn't help but smile sheepishly at his own stupidity. _The tidings I heard of your physical state were no less grim… when last I spoke with Mewtwo, he told me you were awaiting a blood donor for a transfusion_. His amber eyes, dull with exhaustion, perused Link as meticulously as they could manage, before Lucario finished concernedly, _I hope you are in better health now than you were before_.

As he finished, Lucario's pallor paled with frightening swiftness; without warning he swooned for the floor, his eyelids fluttering as he reeled in a state of semi-consciousness. Link leapt from his hospital bed and moved with his stunning warrior's grace, dipping down to one knee on the polished tawny tile and catching Lucario in his arms just before the Aura Guardian could collapse completely. Link's vision swam uncertainly as he straightened – he barely had the strength to carry even Lucario's slight weight, and his arms shook with the strain. He moved as quickly as he dared, depositing Lucario on his own bed and sitting heavily down beside him. Lucario's eyes opened halfway, searching for Link's face.

"You okay?" Link pressed urgently, and unthinkingly he pressed the palm of his hand to Lucario's forehead. A fever blazed beneath his fingertips; lurching toward the nightstand Link jammed the call button with his thumb. "Nurse? Another patient is in my room now, and I need you to – "

He was stopped mid-sentence when Lucario laid one paw across the Hylian's forearm, his voice almost a whine. _No! Please don't send me away… Let me stay here with you… Just for a little while._

Link was moved by the desperate compassion in Lucario's voice, so moved that when the nurse prompted him to finish his sentence he answered, "I just need you to bring a cold compress in with you. It feels like he's spiked a fever."

"Sure, Link. I'll be in right after I check up on Meta Knight."

"Thanks." Link removed his thumb from the call button and turned back to Lucario, only to find the Pokemon's eyes roving his face as though searching for something.

"Are you okay?" Link asked again, a little more sternly this time, but Lucario didn't answer outright; instead he shoved himself away from the mound of pillows covering Link's bed and lurched upward, locking his arms limply around Link's neck and pressing his face into the soft inside crook of the Hylian's shoulder. Perhaps Link was imagining it, but he thought he felt Lucario's slight shoulders bob once in a silent sob.

_Don't send me away,_ Lucario begged again, his voice distressed.

Link wrapped his arms around Lucario and somehow managed to drag him closer, one of his hands absentmindedly caressing the small of the Aura Guardian's back. "Calm down, now… You don't have to go anywhere. You can stay right here with me, okay? Everything's fine now."

_I tried to get Mewtwo to bring me to you_, Lucario rambled on, sounding for all the world as though his sanity had flown from him_. I heard that you needed type O negative blood for the transfusion to succeed… I told him that I have O negative blood, but he would not listen to me. He refused to communicate with me further and left me alone to heal my mental paralysis._

Link processed this confession slowly, anger rushing white-hot through his veins at Mewtwo's heartlessness, and willed himself to remain calm. What ulterior motive could Mewtwo possibly have for denying Lucario the opportunity to donate his blood? Granted, the Pokemon had been in a coma at the time, but if Lucario had truly wished it…

He pushed Lucario back, just enough so that their eyes could meet. Their arms remained draped carefully around one another; it was this moment, Link knew, that he must come clean with Lucario on the single point that had ruined their prospects of exploring a relationship with one another. "I didn't sleep with Zelda because I wanted to. I was completely wasted. She took advantage of me."

Lucario gulped and nodded once, his bejeweled eyes overbright. _I know._

The world had melted away the moment their eyes had met; all Link saw was the resolve hardening in Lucario's eyes. He felt his own face tighten as he made up his mind, and they leaned toward one another.

The door eased open, and in walked Mewtwo.

Link did the only thing he could think of – out snapped his arm, smacking the dish with his remaining ice cream and sending it crashing to the floor. The jarring sound made Lucario jump, which caused him to retract his arms from Link – in an instant Link was out of bed, knelt down on the floor to clean up the mess he had made. Mewtwo watched all of this with confusion and just the barest hint of suspicion – Link hoped that his quick thinking had diffused the situation before it could blow up.

"Dammit, I'm a clumsy idiot," Link sighed tragically, and he glanced up at Mewtwo. "Don't suppose you could track down a mop or something?"

Mewtwo skirted out the door, his large violet eyes narrowed into a scowl. Link turned his gaze back to Lucario. "Listen, we can't talk about this now. Besides, you're with Mewtwo now, and I'm not gonna ask you to leave him for me because that's not fair. I hurt you and I'm sorry, but I don't expect that to change anything. You're a great guy and you deserve to be happy, and you should get to decide for yourself who you get to be happy with. Just know that from here on out I know who I am, I know what I want, and I'm gonna fight for you."

At that moment, Mewtwo poked his head back in the door; Lucario made a show of yawning and stretching, squeezing his eyes shut so as to hide the tears that had welled in his eyes. Link straightened up, cradling the shards of the broken dish in his hands. _I can't seem to find a mop. Link, I don't suppose you'd help me look for one? It looks like Lucario needs his rest._

"Sure!" said Link good-naturedly, and though he kept his face cordial he knew what was going on; Mewtwo laid one hand upon Lucario's shoulder and pressed him gently back into the mountain of pillows on Link's own hospital bed, bidding him to rest in a gentle yet stern tone of voice, and then the two of them excused themselves from the room and into the hallway.

Mewtwo rounded upon Link the instant the door was closed. _I know what you are doing._

"Do you now?" Link shot back, crossing his arms over his chest and fixing Mewtwo with a glare of his own. "Why don't you enlighten me since you seem to know everything?"

Mewtwo's eyes flashed a brilliant white, the most obvious sign that he was growing violent and his psychic energies were becoming more and more difficult to control. _You are trying to confuse Lucario._

Link just couldn't help it – he threw his head back and laughed out loud, ignoring the intensifying throb of his now-sharp headache. "Good guess, but honestly, I'm not trying to confuse Lucario at all. I'm trying to take him away from you." It was amazing how easily these words came to Link now, after so many weeks of trying to decide who he was and how he felt; saying the words was suddenly as easy as taking a breath of fresh air, and just as satisfying. The moment the words had passed his lips, he felt a strange sensation of personal triumph.

Mewtwo was so taken aback by Link's straightforward answer that he actually rocked back a step, but he was quick to recover and even quicker to respond. _And do you really think that is possible?_

"Why wouldn't it be?" asked Link defiantly, and the moment he heard Mewtwo's rebuttal he wished he hadn't asked.

_Because you are the one who hurt him before – or have you forgotten? You led him to believe that you desired him and then you denied him. You squandered his affections and took up with Princess Zelda. You have caused him nothing but pain. Do you honestly believe that he will ever return your feelings? Because even if he could, and he decided that he cared for you still… he could never bring himself to trust you again after all that you put him through._

Link wasn't foolish enough to think that his rejection of Lucario hadn't hurt the Pokemon's feelings – though Lucario would never admit it, and always kept a brave, stoic face, Link knew better than to be fooled by appearances – , but hearing it from someone else was like letting someone pour salt into an open wound. Mewtwo's words stung, certainly, but they weren't enough to dissuade Link from his course now that he had chosen it. "Nobody ever said this would be easy… hell, about a month ago I was struggling just to accept the way that I feel, and I never thought in a million years that I'd be acting on it. But I'll tell you the same thing that I just told Lucario – I know who I am, and I know what I want now. If I have to beg him on my hands and knees to give me a chance, that's what I'll do. If I have to pay for my boneheaded mistakes for years to come before I can get him to trust me again, I'll make it happen. But I'm warning you now, Mewtwo: you'd better be ready to fight for him, because you'll need every ounce of your strength to keep him, and then some."

_I accept your challenge,_ said Mewtwo, though his voice sounded mutinous. _I will fight._

"Good," Link said sincerely. "I'll fight twice as hard."

They glared daggers at one another for a moment, both too competitive to wish the other good luck, and then turned away from one another and set off down the hallway in opposite directions.

* * *

><p>It was by sheer, random happenstance that Vick wound up solving the pinwheel crest puzzle in House Osaka; just as Akabane had promised, she found a series of circular shaped insignias inlaid into the ceremonial altar in the same room where she had stumbled across the camera. At first she wasn't sure what to do – there were five crests in all, one in the center and four surrounding it at regular intervals. The center crest stayed firmly in place and the other four rotated quite easily, but she discovered quickly that after four quarter turns total all of the insignias would suddenly become stuck before sliding back into their original positions. This would have been baffling, but each crest had four diamonds cut into it, with each diamond bearing a different color; eventually Vick realized that all she needed to do was line the colors up within four quarter-turns. When she had accomplished that, the previously-sealed sliding door next to her clicked and eased open a few inches, just enough for her to peek inside without admitting herself: there was a narrow landing, just like a walk-in closet, and behind the rack of neatly-hung kimonos she found a rickety staircase leading downward.<p>

_This is a disaster waiting to happen,_ Vick cursed silently, and shoving the kimonos aside she clicked on the flashlight and started on her way down.

She knew she was underground the moment she stepped off the last stair and onto the floor; it was stone beneath her feet, and somewhere in the distance Vick thought she could hear running water somewhere. Casting the flashlight around she discerned that she was in a tunnel system that ran beneath the whole of the village; there was even a mostly-blocked intersecting tunnel leading north, but where it led she could only guess. The hollowed-out basement she now found herself in was currently being used as a storage space; there were boxes of all shapes and sizes stacked untidily in every corner, as well as several crudely-constructed shelves filled with dusty knick-knacks and even a large Buddha statue on the ground.

_But where would I be if I was the key to the room where I left Akabane?_ Vick wondered, and with a little sigh of impatience she proceeded to pry the lid off the nearest box.

Her search was hurried – her surroundings unnerved her more than House Kurosawa had, somehow – but she tried to be as thorough as possible under the circumstances. It was lucky that she took the time to look; in her search she found two more rolls of film (one of which was quite good), as well as a bottle of the same generic white pills Akabane had slipped into his overcoat and a vial of what appeared to be water, except that it sparkled even in the dark. This seemed too precious to leave behind, so she placed it inside the cup of her bra and kept it close to her heart – though what compelled her to do so, she couldn't guess.

She was just about to give up on the errand and head back upstairs, cursing Akabane and secretly hoping he rotted away in the Kurosawa family library, when she glanced back at the collapsed tunnel and the beam of the flashlight glanced over something that shined dully in the light. Curious, she took a few tentative steps forward – then dashed closer when she realized that it was a large brass key, partially concealed in the rubble. Throwing caution to the wind Vick began tossing stones every which way, oblivious to the commotion she made as she dug the key out, and at last she held it up in the beam of the flashlight to examine it, pleased with the find.

Vick turned back toward the stairs – and came face to face with a monstrosity the likes of which she had never seen.

Given its translucent appearance, Vick knew that she had to be dealing with another ghost – but this one was so hideous, so terrifying, that she had to swallow hard to batter down her gag reflex. It was clothed in tattered robes, its fingernails long and filthy, its mouth with uneven teeth gaping senselessly… It exuded a stench of rotting bodies so strong that Vick clapped her hands over her mouth and nose to keep from retching.

The camera was tucked safely into a fold of her voluminous jade kimono, but despite her every instinct screaming at her to retrieve it she remained perfectly still; the creature she faced continued to stare at her, unmoving, seeming content just to impede her progress. Vick wondered if she could just sidestep it and sprint for the stairs, and took two quick steps to her right –

Suddenly the ghostly creature moved, in precisely the same direction Vick had turned to flee, and she discovered far too late just how much ground it could cover in an astoundingly short period of time; one of its filthy hands darted out and seized her shoulder, and from that moment on, Vick couldn't move. Every single one of her muscles clenched unbearably tight at the creature's touch and a chill spread through her body as though she had been submerged in ice water; she was so cold that she couldn't think, couldn't even breathe…

Vick would easily have died then, except that for no reason at all, the creature released her. She collapsed to the stone heavily, the agony of the impact made worse by the lingering cold she felt, and stared up at the deadly creature through bleary eyes to find that it remained unmoving above her. There was no hope; she was too weak to attempt to escape. Surely the creature was about to finish her off.

Except that it didn't.

A full minute passed, and then two, and still Vick couldn't guess why the ghost she faced was just standing there. Surely it knew that she was completely helpless? She didn't even possess the strength to lift the Camera Obscura in her own defense… As she watched, it swung its head in all directions. Almost as if it was listening.

Then it dawned on her: it couldn't see her. It couldn't see anything.

With this knowledge in mind, Vick looked all around in the hopes that she could use the creature's blindness to her advantage. One of the stones she had carelessly dislodged in her attempt to unearth the brass key was laying mere inches from her hand; slowly, so as not to make any noise or attract any attention, Vick reached out and picked one up, turning it over in her hand as she took careful aim at her target: the mostly-blocked tunnel to the north. She wasn't far away – maybe twenty feet? – but in her current state Vick doubted if she could launch the rock half that distance.

She put her whole body into the throw and got lucky; the stone clacked off the cave-in and through the small opening that remained unblocked before clattering to the other side. The blind apparition standing above her whipped its head around at the sound, uttered a little moan of anger, and walked right through the rubble and into the adjoining tunnel.

Vick slumped down to the ground, momentarily safe, and reached into the inside lining of her kimono for the little bottle of pills she had found just a few minutes before. It took half the bottle – about six pills – just to regain the feeling in her extremities, and she wound up downing the other six to ease the chills and the feeling of fatigue that had settled deep down into her bones. With her strength returned Vick raced up the stairs and sealed off the sliding door, hoping beyond hope that she never saw another one of the blind ghouls again.

* * *

><p>Amazingly, half of their company was released from the hospital around four o' clock that same afternoon; Blaze, Kirby, Yami, Midna, Sonic, Silver, and Leon were given clean bills of health and no further instructions except to avoid sociopathic killers from now on. Falco was given a prescription for painkillers to ease the constant string of headaches brought on by his lingering concussion, and Mewtwo was told to take it easy until his fatigue had fully subsided. Though the entire hospital staff was in agreement that Wolf had been on his deathbed mere hours previous, they simply couldn't fabricate a reason to keep him in their custody any longer – he was released with a clean bill of health also, and a suggestion that if he felt the need to 'fake his death' again, he do so at another medical institution.<p>

The others were on the mend, certainly, and despite the fact that none of them remained in critical condition they were still receiving constant care. Marth and Meta Knight were both out of surgery and had been moved into recovery by the time the others were preparing to leave the hospital and return to Brawlers Mansion; Marth would bear a scar on his chest from Pit's arrow for the rest of his life unless he chose to submit himself to reconstructive surgery, and he assured them he wasn't in much pain, but his shallow breathing and pale, clammy skin suggested otherwise. Meta Knight's wings were set in elaborate slings when they visited him, and he had no choice but to remain completely immobilized or risk further damaging the already frail membranes. His doctor's consultation, though optimistic, was not particularly promising: reconstructive surgery was a must in Meta Knight's future if he even hoped to regain full control of his wings, and he would have to attend physical therapy for several months.

Fox, Pit, Lance, and Link were being kept overnight so that their various lacerations could be closely monitored, but the medical associates responsible for their care had high hopes that they would continue to recover quickly. Link was regaining his strength at an almost unprecedented rate considering his wounds, but the transfusion from Falco had absorbed into his system nicely and the staff was confident his recovery would be swift. Lucario was weak, far weaker than the rest of them; one of the most devastating repercussions of his mental paralysis was chronic fatigue, a condition that tired him even after the most mundane of tasks. The others visited him as often as they were able but were often shuttled quickly out of his room – he slept through a large portion of the day, and even short conversations taxed him.

Their biggest concern now was Shadow; the blow to his head had resulted in a hairline fracture in his skull. He had yet to wake still, but according to the most recent prognosis his neurons seemed to be firing. Until he awoke, the doctors wouldn't be able to accurately gauge the extent of the trauma his brain had sustained.

When those who had been released from the hospital returned to Brawlers Mansion, they observed a great deal of caution before entering the house. Thankfully, Wolf was in his element.

"You two," he growled, pointing at Sonic and Silver. "Circle the house a few times and make sure everything looks like it did when we left. You see any broken windows or any other signs of forced entry – like a wall missing or something – you report back to me ASAP. Get a move on."

Neither of the hedgehogs argued – what was the point, when Wolf was perhaps the most decorated war veteran among them? - , and at breakneck speed a blur of cobalt and silver blazed past them, circling the mansion in opposite directions.

"Do you really think they'd be here waiting for us?" asked Midna in a careful undertone, and Wolf scoffed bitterly.

"I wouldn't put it past them," admitted the lupine begrudgingly, and by the time his sentence was finished the two streaks of light were circling the house toward them.

"Everything looks normal from out here," said Sonic, his breathing rate as normal as anyone's despite the swiftness of his pace. "House looked untouched… there's blood all over the yard, though, and in the sunlight it's sickening to see just how much everybody lost." He finished with a delicate shudder.

"I ran into the woods even," Silver added. "Not deep, but far enough to notice if anyone was taking cover there… looks like we're all clear."

Wolf crossed his arms, still unsatisfied. "Not yet we're not. There are four direct entrances to this house – the front door, the second level patio, the garage, and the attic door near the Jacuzzi on the roof. We check all entrances and then the entire mansion's interior. Kirby, you can float or whatever, take the attic." Kirby puffed up his rose-pink cheeks and flapped his stubby arms, rising skyward as Wolf turned to Mewtwo and Leon. "We're the quietest, so we'll go in too. Leon, take the patio, Mewtwo, the garage." The mercenary commander paused just long enough to draw one of the laser pistols from his belt, which he had wasted no time in donning upon leaving the hospital. "I'll take the front door."

The three of them parted ways just as Kirby was alighting upon the roof, and the others watched helplessly from the driveway as they entered their own home like fugitives.

"Head to the backyard," Falco suggested to Sonic and Silver. "Be ready to enter through the patio if Powalski needs you." The avian turned to Midna, Yami, and Blaze, but it was to find Midna dissolving into Sonic's shadow, Blaze with a miniature inferno at her fingertips, and Yami with a full hand of Duel Monsters cards.

The internal search of the mansion took a full quarter of an hour; on Wolf's orders they were all very thorough, and left nothing to chance. The moment the mercenary commander appeared at the threshold of the open front door, those waiting outside visibly relaxed; Wolf holstered his laser pistol and dusted his hands off, looking quite pleased with himself. "Quiet as a tomb – looks just like we left it."

"Think we should think about installing a security system or something?" asked Falco as they trouped inside, and Wolf snorted derisively as he led the way.

"What good will that do? We got our asses handed to us by two guys. How many of us are there?"

Midna did a quick head count. "Eighteen?"

"Yeah, something like that. So we had them nine to one and they thrashed us – do you guys really think that installing a security system will keep that from happening again?"

They seated themselves in various places in the sitting room, looking gloomy all over again. No one spoke, and for Wolf, that was answer enough. "Any other bright ideas? We might as well start brainstorming now – I know not all the guys are here, but we can't let that stop us. Wesker and Legato could come back here any time and finish what they started, and we'd be just as powerless to stop them as we were before."

"May I ask a question?" piped up Blaze, and the corner of Wolf's mouth twitched upward into a little smirk – they all seemed to have accepted him as their unofficial leader in Link's absence, which was what he had been aiming for.

"Knock yourself out."

Blaze ignored the quip rather tactfully. "During all the commotion, did anyone see the man in the black hat who helped Vick at The Shadow?"

A stunned silence followed this question for perhaps a full minute, before Falco answered haltingly, "You know… I'm pretty sure… I never did."

"Neither did I," Sonic admitted.

"He wasn't here," said Wolf confidently, and he thought he could see where Blaze was going with her question even before she spoke again.

"I only ask because… how certain are we that he wasn't behind this attack all along?"

"It's definitely something we should consider carefully in the days ahead," Yami put in. "After all… it isn't as though we know anything real about him. Vick was rather adamant on the issue that that man saved her from Wesker, but… how certain can we really be that that was his true aim?"

"He could have helped her for any number of reasons," Silver pointed out. "He may have done it just to gain her trust, and lower our defenses."

Wolf sat back and listened to them hash out the possibilities for several minutes, rolling it all over in his mind and wishing he had something concrete to contribute. He considered testing the validity of Sebastian's claims by calling out the demon's name – would Sebastian really appear as if from nowhere, simply because he was called? Wolf opened his mouth to call out the name, but bit it back and closed his mouth barely a second later. He had given Sebastian a very specific order – locate Wesker and Legato, and bring back any information he could concerning their whereabouts. Hell, he was so desperate to pay them back for killing him that he was prepared to settle for any morsel of information he could get, really.

He hated to be the bearer of bad news, but Wolf couldn't help but voice his opinion. "There's a reason Vick hasn't come back, you know." The words were foreboding enough to raise goosebumps on anyone's arms, and when they all turned their hurt and incredulous gazes on him he heaved a sigh and continued, "What if Legato and Wesker were just distractions? What if that asshole in the black hat is really the ringleader, and he sent them in to divide us so he would have a better shot at Vick?"

"What are you saying?" Falco snapped at once, his face wounded at the mere thought. "That that guy… caught up with Vick in the woods… and…?"

"Don't say it," Blaze interrupted, wrapping her arms around herself in an almost childlike way. "Don't even think it, it's monstrous…"

"He took her," Leon finished, his coal-black eyes fixed upon Wolf in an attempt to determine just how the mercenary commander felt about his own hypothesis; for his part, Wolf managed to keep his face blank, though the prospect of Vick in the hands of a killer made his stomach turn over. "While the rest of us were fighting, he waited until she was all alone – "

Sonic crossed the sitting room so fast that he appeared as little more than a bolt of azure lightning; he had punched Leon four times square in the jaw before anyone even realized who his target was. By the time Leon had registered the pain, though, it was already too late for him to strike back – Silver and Yami, the two closest to Sonic, were upon him in an instant and began hauling him backward.

"Getting emotional about the situation won't help anyone," Leon drawled coldly, and he cracked his jaw and relaxed back against the couch cushion as though nothing had happened. "You want to save someone? You keep a cool head, and you start from the beginning."

"Fuck you!" shrieked Sonic, though he had stopped struggling to free himself at this point and settled for merely looking livid. "Who the hell do you think you are, talking about our friends like that?! You're just a soulless killer for hire! Who the fuck invited you here, anyway, and what are you still doing here?!"

Leon turned his eyes upon Wolf, but if he had been hoping for some sort of reprieve from his commander, he was looking in the wrong place; Wolf's single electric blue eye was ablaze with rage, and he shifted forward to address his team member. "Normally I would appreciate your signature dispassionate approach, Powalski – it's always good not to get emotionally invested in a mission you've been contracted to do, and I fully support that policy. But this isn't a mission. This isn't the war. This isn't some meaningless squabble over intergalactic boundary lines, and we're not doing a hit for Andross. We're talking about a couple of dicks who came in, kicked the shit out of us, and might have abducted somebody we're all close to. What I mean is, this is personal. This is the kind of thing where it's best if you're emotionally invested. Seeing as how you're not, Powalski, I think it's time for you to leave."

No one had anticipated that Wolf would approach the situation this way – especially not Leon, who nearly let his mouth gape open in shock. He watched Wolf for quite some time, certain that the lupine's stance on the issue would change, but Wolf continued to glare back at him with a rather hostile expression that clearly conveyed he was not prepared to budge. Finally, Leon stood up.

"You have changed," he told Wolf in a dry tone of voice. "You are no longer capable of adhering to your own rules."

"There are no rules for this," Wolf snapped back forbiddingly. "And you're an idiot for thinking otherwise."

"I think you need to do some serious re-evaluating," sneered Leon.

"And I think you need to find new employment. Consider yourself terminated, Powalski. Star Wolf no longer requires your services."

Falco's sharp intake of breath was the only sound that cut through the glacial silence; Leon's teeth were bared in an awful snarl, as though if Wolf were only close enough he would take a snap at him. "You have no grounds for such a decision. Where is the reason for my termination? My tenure as a member of Star Wolf and my indifference for the well-being of the girl are in no way related. You have no right – "

"Keep talking," Wolf growled, the hackles on the back of his neck standing on end with hostility. "I dare you."

Leon clamped his mouth shut with obvious effort, his eyes on fire; with quick, exaggerated movements he whisked a small switchblade from one of the utility pouches on his flight vest, neatly severed the stitches that held the patch to the fabric of his flight jacket, and spat on the emblem. This he threw at Wolf's feet before storming out, slamming the door behind him. Wolf glanced down. The patch Leon had torn from his jacket was the Star Wolf insignia, a symbol that only a handful of deserving men across the Lylat System had ever worn.

Falco watched Wolf's face with keen, knowing eyes, waiting for the barest flash of any emotion to cross the lupine's face, but the commander of Star Wolf was well practiced in appearing cool and collected even when he truly wasn't and let no such slip occur. Of those currently present, only Falco knew the significance of what Wolf had just done – Leon had been a part of Wolf's elite squad of ruthless mercenaries since the age of fourteen and was widely considered not only Wolf's right hand man, but the only colleague Wolf had ever trusted. For Wolf to sever ties with him, all on account of Vick, and the others… this was no small, insignificant act. "Wolf…"

"Shut up," snarled Wolf, and though Falco was generally not one to take any insult lying down he purposefully kept his mouth shut this time; Wolf had just sacrificed a great deal. "Anybody who brings up what just went down will be having a chat with the business end of my rifle. Capiche?"

A murmured chorus of various "okays" and "no problems" met Wolf's severe request, and he rose from his seat on the couch just moments after, saying: "Do what you want about Vick. I don't want to give up on her either, but how many days has it been since we hit the hospital? Two? Two and a half? Powalski was right in that sense, at least – we need to face facts, boys."

And ignoring their incredulous stares he stomped upstairs to his bedroom; the sound of the door slamming resounded like a thunderclap. Falco leapt to his feet as though struck by lightning, his face tortured, his arms trembling despite his efforts to keep them still.

"I can't accept this," he whispered hoarsely, his eyes suddenly overbright, and he dashed from the room and out into the backyard.

"Falco!" Sonic called after him, but the avian didn't stop to reply as he pounded down the steps; the azure-quilled hedgehog sprinted off after him, Silver following in his wake, and as Yami summoned the Winged Dragon to bear him on his way Midna dissolved into his shadow so as not to be left behind.

The five of them combed through even the furthest reaches of the forest, double- and sometimes even triple-checking their paths before moving ahead; they searched tirelessly until the light of the afternoon died and long into the night, but they never found Vick.

* * *

><p>Vick had never known death; she wasn't a warrior like her newfound friends and she had no family to speak of that she had lost in some tragic way. But she knew enough about death to know that she was on the brink of it.<p>

Akabane was right – the stray pinwheel crest that he had been so adamant that she collect on her way was in the spare room easily seen through the slatted windows of the entryway of House Osaka. It took Vick quite a bit of searching – it was little more than a storeroom, really – but eventually she found the crest buried beneath a stack of moldy kimonos at the bottom of a box shaped suspiciously like a coffin. The moment she had uncovered the object of her search, though, she had been accosted by yet another of the blind ghosts, and though she had eventually vanquished it with several well-timed shots from the Camera Obscura, the battle with the ghoul had taken its toll on her. The storeroom was small and made it difficult for her to maneuver, so the sightless spirit had rained several ice-cold blows upon her before it had succumbed to the camera's mysterious powers. Fortunately the tiny vial of crystal-bright water she had saved from the underground tunnel had proved to be very useful indeed – the mouthful of liquid had restored her strength.

The moment she stepped out into the streets of All God's Village, she knew she would need every ounce of her courage and more strength than she could muster to survive the trek back to House Kurosawa.

The ghostly residents of the village were out in force, it seemed – many of them were waving torches of an inconsistent, eerie blue flame that Vick didn't doubt would burn if they touched her skin. Several others were clad in translucent occultist robes – priests, perhaps? Hadn't Akabane said something about a Ceremony Master, and heads of house that presided over the village's grisly ritual? More importantly, however, Vick counted six of the blind ghosts wandering among the rabble, and she was prepared to believe there were more lurking nearby.

Vick slumped against the wall of House Osaka, her head in her hands, thinking hard. She had taken the main road to and from House Kurosawa and knew of no other route to reach it. Vaguely she remembered an old dirt road at the crest of the hill where she had first entered the village – it snaked off in the opposite direction as the path she had taken, if memory served – but she had no guarantee it led to where she needed to go. Besides, she was no good to anyone lost.

Neither was she going to be of any use dead, she reminded herself, peering around the peeling corner of the dilapidated house at the undead congregation that awaited her.

There was nothing else for it, Vick knew. Akabane might be an untrustworthy liar, but he had saved her from Wesker and Legato more times than she could count by now. She owed it to him to put her all into this rescue attempt, even if it cost her life, she supposed. She slipped one hand into the hip pocket of the jade kimono and clenched her fingers reassuringly around the old brass key she had recovered from the basement of House Osaka, drew in a shaky breath, and took off running down the center lane.

Unearthly shouts of protest struck up behind her as she passed the unsuspecting first line of resistance – at least they were unobservant. The next line was a little more alert by the time she reached them, but Vick managed to maneuver through the groping white arms that stretched out toward her without getting touched. She had put three of the blind ghosts behind her before the resistance began closing ranks around her, just as she was turning right past the house with the bloody sickle protruding from the rotting wooden door. One of the villagers swiped its icy hand through her forearm, and Vick gritted her teeth against the sudden chill; another swiped what appeared to be a simple farmer's pitchfork through her leg, and the blow nearly crippled her with cold.

A mob of the ghosts had formed some sort of blockade ahead, just beneath the bridge structure that connected two of the houses Vick had not yet entered; at the last moment she turned sharply to the right to avoid them, and continued on via a crumbling stone pathway that hugged the house on the right. The ghouls shouted at her from below, waving their simple weapons, and Vick glanced back –

- To find that all six of the sightless spirits she had passed were hot on her trail, moaning tonelessly and gaining with every stride, following the sound of her exerted panting.

Vick turned left – the pathway curved as the house did – and cursed beneath her breath when the sidewalk abruptly turned into overgrowth. There was only one option left to her.

She jumped.

The drop down to this section of the main pathway, which none of the other villagers had yet reached, was far further than she had anticipated. When she had turned onto the stone path it was elevated barely twelve inches off the ground, but the main path sloped downward steadily and the sidewalk she was on ran level with the foundation of the house beside it. When she leapt down, she was about thirty feet above the ground.

She remembered to keep her knees bent as she landed, but this hardly mattered; Vick didn't quite have her feet beneath her, and her lack of balance shot pain up her right ankle as it twisted badly in the fall. There was no time to stop – the blind ghosts were doubling back, following the sound of her collapsing heavily to the ground but momentarily confused as to the distance – so she scrambled to her feet and shoved open the great gate doors that separated House Kurosawa from the rest of All God's Village. Even when she had pushed the gate shut she didn't linger; every horror film she had ever seen depicted ghosts as having the ability to walk through walls, and she wasn't about to test the theory now. Vick hobbled forward across the bridge suspended over misty water, always aware of the moans that followed in her wake.

The main entrance to House Kurosawa swung open easily when she reached it, but this did not give her the feeling of reprieve she had been desperately hoping for. In the foyer she spied two of the blind ghosts waiting for her, lining either side of the hallway like silent statues. Vick wanted to cry – her ankle throbbed badly when she applied even the slightest weight, and she was now so cold that her chest was beginning to tighten, making breathing increasingly difficult – but she knew the only way to ensure that she survived this encounter was to be as quiet as possible. If they didn't hear her, they would have no way to take note of her passing… if they heard her… Vick had a decent enough imagination to guess what would happen if they noticed her presence.

She made her way slowly, keeping the majority of her weight on her left leg and biting her lip to keep from sobbing. Inch by inch she made her way closer, trembling with cold and with fear, but they continued to stare sightlessly ahead and made no movements to indicate they had sensed her walking among them…

Vick was three feet past them and only fifteen feet from the door that would take her safely to the next room when she brought her left foot down heavily on a floorboard that creaked beneath her weight.

She knew she was in trouble the second the creak sounded, so she did the only thing that seemed plausible – Vick hurled herself forward, terror numbing the pain in her ankle as she ran. She crashed through the door on the right and hurtled through the mostly-dark hallway with all her speed, as behind her the blind ghouls moaned and shuffled after her with their skeletal, translucent hands grasping.

Turning a corner she spied a soft orange glow bathing the wall ahead, and Vick recalled faintly that there had been a lamp aglow upon the desk where she had found the diary about Itsuki and Chitose. It was the room just next to the Kurosawa family library, where Akabane was imprisoned and awaiting her return. She plunged her free hand into the pocket in which she had dropped the old brass key, her fingers brushing against it in her hurry –

Vick turned the last corner, ripped her hand out of her pocket, and watched helplessly as the key slipped from her frozen fingertips and sailed across the room, landing on the other side of the two ghosts that pursued her. The only thing that saved her in that moment was the fact that she was rooted to the spot in horror, and the key clinked loudly against the floorboards as it struck, drawing their attention.

Reading idly within the confines of the Kurosawa family library, Akabane cocked his head toward the door when he heard the commotion in the adjacent room. He lowered the book to his side and approached the locked door, his movements swift and silent. "Vick?"

Vick whipped the camera up into a ready position and managed to snap three shots in rapid succession before Akabane's voice wafted through the closed door; it was enough to destroy one of the blind ghosts, but the other whirled back to regard the new sound and stalked forward, rapidly closing the distance. Vick moved silently despite her panic, circling the desk, but four steps into the maneuver her injured ankle gave out beneath her and she swayed into the desk, overturning the lamp and knocking it to the ground.

It was a miracle the single flickering candle didn't set the room ablaze. As it was, the ghost was upon her in an instant, seizing her shoulder with its frozen hand.

Vick's stomach turned over at the sensation – it was like someone was stabbing every inch of her body with icicles while simultaneously submerging her in arctic water. It was cold the likes of which she had never experienced, so cold she was sure that if she survived, she would carry the memory with her for the rest of her days. Her breath caught in her throat, her strength waned away, her lips and fingers turned blue –

"Vick!" called Akabane again, this time impatient, but Vick didn't think for a moment to be irritated at his tone of voice – the instant the single syllable punctured the silence the ghost whirled away from her, releasing its grip upon her shoulder. Vick slumped back against the wall, shaking as though she were having a seizure, and attempted to heft the camera up before her. "Answer me!"

_Shut up,_ she wanted to tell him. _It's coming, it can hear you, and you have no way to defend yourself. _But her lips just couldn't form the words.

The camera slipped from her slackened grip and clattered to the floor, kicking up a wealth of dust from the weathered floorboards. The muffled thud was just enough to catch the attention of the blind ghost, who was just six inches from the door behind which Akabane stood waiting. It turned back in her direction, its translucent ear cocked and listening, and for this, at least, she was secretly grateful. Vick's hand, outstretched for the camera, lost all of its strength then and fell limp at her side, and she thought for certain it was all over.

Something metallic brushed against her fingertips, and she opened one eye just a fraction – it was the key to the door sealing off the library.

The plan formed so quickly in Vick's mind that she barely had time to act on it – she clutched the key in her hand as tightly as she could manage, curled her legs beneath her, and kicked out with all her might. The meager strength was just enough to get her up on her hands and knees, which was all she needed; one of her feet kicked the camera and sent it skittering across the floor, and the ghost veered in that direction just as she had hoped it would. Vick crawled as quickly as she could manage, past the overturned lamp whose flame had died out, past the musty desk, right up to the securely locked door into which she inserted the brass key she had gone to so much trouble to obtain.

With the last ounce of her strength, Vick turned the key smoothly in the lock and heard, with a faint stirring of satisfaction, the tumbler as it shifted aside.

The door burst open and Akabane stepped out, his eyes sweeping over the sightless ghost now staring in his direction, the camera lying unattended in the corner furthest away from him, and at last settling upon the pale and shivering woman huddled on the ground at his feet. For a moment he remained perfectly still, his mind racing, and the ghost hesitated –

"Get the camera," Vick whispered, her voice small and feeble, and lifting her tired voice she called, "Come and get me, you freak."

The ghost drifted forward, quicker than Akabane had imagined it would, and with his soundless step he crossed the room to where the Camera Obscura lay abandoned. Vick curled herself into a ball helplessly, dreading the next touch of the awful cold and wondering if it would be enough to finish her –

Akabane turned back, camera in hand, and pressed the shutter button. A blinding flash lit up the otherwise nearly-dark room, and the blind ghost howled in apparent agony; Akabane pressed the button again, and again, until the apparition became incorporeal and vanished altogether. Only when it had disappeared from his sight did he lower the camera to his side, chuckling mirthlessly to himself. "I must say, you seem to have an uncanny knack for getting yourself into trouble. Either that, or there is something about you that the residents of the village seem to be quite attached to."

There was no response. Akabane glanced down to find Vick crumpled and unmoving in the doorway.

He fell upon the unused desk at once, rummaging through all of its drawers, scattering tattered and barely-legible documents in his hurry; at last his fingers closed around a tiny vial that was slightly chill to the touch, and he extracted this and held it up before his eyes to investigate. It was one of the same clear vials of shimmering, crystalline liquid that Vick had stumbled upon earlier; Akabane bent down beside her, his eyes narrowed into slits. "Get up, damn you, and drink this."

Vick's face was ashen now, almost gray; her skin was cold to the touch. She looked like a corpse.

Akabane seized her around the waist and hoisted her none-too-gently into his lap, supporting her neck in the crook of his elbow and tilting her head back. He bit down on the simple cork stopper and pulled back until it came loose, then spat it across the room and upended the vial into his own mouth. The liquid felt refreshing the instant it washed over his tongue but he did not swallow; instead he shifted himself closer, and tossing the empty vial over his shoulder he took Vick's chin in his hand, guided her face up to his, and fastened his lips over her own. He opened his lips a fraction, forcing her own open, allowing the cool liquid to drip into her mouth.

Her lips were like ice beneath his. Instinctively Akabane pressed harder, warming them a little with his own, surprised by the tingling sensation that heated his insides as he did so. He lingered until he was certain that every drop of the liquid had passed to her, and then he drifted back, watching with a kind of deep fascination as her cheeks grew from gray to white, pale peach back to a faint rosy pink.

Vick's eyes fluttered open wearily. "Hmm…?"

Akabane immediately put more space between them, laying the Camera Obscura in her hand and backing away. "How many of them were there?"

Vick shook her head, looking exhausted and confused. "What…?"

"I said, how many of them were there? The Mourners?"

"Mourners?"

"The ghosts chasing you – they had their eyes sewn shut. Correct? You remember?" Akabane had to remind himself to have patience, for Vick was looking vacant and lost.

"I remember," Vick mumbled thickly. "What's a Mourner?"

"I am about to tell you." Akabane retreated back into the Kurosawa family library for a moment, returning with a small stack of tattered-looking books. He considered handing one of them to her to read, but thought better of it – her strength had obviously not yet returned. "The Mourners are an integral part of the Crimson Sacrifice Ritual. It has long been said that those who have the misfortune of gazing into the gate to hell are cursed with blindness for as long as they continue to live; in order to fulfill their duties to the village, those who are chosen to serve as Mourners sew their own eyes shut in the final weeks before the ritual. They then attend a holy ceremony that heightens all of their other senses, making it possible for them to function quite well without their eyesight."

"Why is it so important that the Mourners don't see into the hell gate?" Vick questioned, struggling to sit up and restore blood flow to her extremities.

"Because the Mourners are responsible for delivering the successful sacrifice victim into the gate. If they were too busy writhing in agony because they had just had their eyes burned out, they wouldn't be able to do their job very well, now would they?"

Vick glanced up at him, suddenly suspicious. "Wait a second. I was unconscious."

"You were teetering somewhere between unconsciousness and certain death," Akabane corrected.

"Right. What the hell did you do?"

"I?" gasped Akabane, faking innocence and surprise to the very best of his ability. "I did nothing."

Vick's eyes had narrowed into slits by now; her voice was filled with biting sarcasm. "Yeah, and you think I'm gonna believe that I almost died and then came back to perfect health without any sort of outside intervention?"

"I suppose you consider intervention of the divine sort a little farfetched, do you?"

"It was you. I know it was. Now tell me what you did."

Akabane chuckled beneath his breath and adjusted his hat, turning his back on her; Vick had to scramble to her feet and dash after him in order to keep from being left behind. Had she hesitated, she would not have heard the words he murmured seemingly to himself: "If there is one thing I absolutely cannot stand, it is being in someone else's debt."

Vick decided, for the time being, that it would be best to let the comment slide by unquestioned. Instead, she changed the topic. "So when are you going to tell me why the personal attendants of the gate to hell are after me?"

Akabane stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face her. The expression he wore was that of a long-suffering man. "I do not think they are after you at all – quite the contrary, I believe they are using you to get to me."

Vick's insides ran cold at these words. "What? Why would they – "

"There is quite a lot I didn't tell you," Akabane interrupted thoughtlessly, and he drew himself up to his full height before admitting grimly, "The reason I used to live here is because I was born here – born and raised to actively participate in the Crimson Sacrifice Ritual. I was once the elder of a set of twin boys, twins who were destined to take part in the ritual to seal the hell gate and save the village. I sacrificed my younger twin to fulfill the requirements of that rite. My surname is Kurosawa."

* * *

><p>"Okay. Thanks for the update. Take care of yourselves."<p>

Link hung up the phone with a heavy sigh and turned back to the room at large, which included Fox, Pit, Lucario, and Lance. He tried to mask his anxiety with smile, but none of them were so unobservant that they didn't recognize the falsity of the expression right away.

"That was Falco," he told the others, taking a seat near the window and lacing his fingers together. "He said they looked through the woods from midday til about ten this evening, but they didn't find Vick."

"Something is wrong," Lance insisted, glancing to the others for support on this claim but finding they were all too dejected by Link's news to offer any. "If she fled into the forest, why would she not return? Something happened to her."

Link ran a hand through his disheveled hair, wishing for the twentieth time that day that the nurses would let him take a shower – if he looked anything like he felt, then he looked like a train wreck. His words came out cautiously. "The current theory is that the guy in the black hat that helped Vick out at The Shadow a few nights ago is the one who's really behind all this. Falco said that Wolf thinks he's been behind the scenes calling the shots all along, and that when the action got started and Wesker and Legato had us all hurt and divided, that hat bastard cornered Vick in the woods and took her somewhere else."

There was silence as this hypothesis was slowly digested, and then Fox said uneasily, "It would explain why she took off and never came back."

Lucario was shaking his head wearily, though not in denial of Fox's words – he simply appeared unable to accept what was happening. _If this is all true, we will have yet another fight on our hands._

"You mean, fight the guy in the black hat?" squeaked Pit, and he looked terrified. "Are you crazy?!"

"Vick had reason to believe that he was on the same level as Wesker and Legato," Fox pointed out. "If that's true, we won't stand a chance in our weakened states. We'll need time to recover, and then more time to whip ourselves back into shape."

_We don't have that kind of time,_ snarled Lucario. _Every moment that we waste, unspeakable things are happening to Victoria!_

Lance was watching Link, whose eyes were upon the floor and whose gaze was vacant; it prompted the Dragon Master to ask, "Falco had more to say, didn't he?"

Link's face fell into his hands; he seemed unwilling to look anyone in the eye, and instead spoke directly to the generic tile underfoot. "Yeah… he said that Silver caught two trails of footprints in the woods, heading south, away from the house… Sonic was able to identify both. One set was from his shoes, and the other matches the boots that Vick is always wearing."

"Tell them to follow those to Vick!" Pit crowed victoriously, but Link shook his head, looking frustrated.

"Come on, Pit, you think they didn't try that? Sonic followed the tracks to where they split up, and they followed Vick's footprints deeper into the woods… there's a certain point where the tracks just… disappear." Link broke off, looking embarrassed to admit this, and the others reacted uproariously.

"How can that be?!" Lance exclaimed.

_Impossible! _cried Lucario. _There is no explanation logical enough…_

"There's more," Link admitted. "Apparently Wolf had some sort of falling out with that guy Leon… Falco said he knows Leon really well, and that Leon isn't exactly the type to let grudges go. Falco is concerned that Leon will try to sabotage any rescue attempts we might make, as well as any further contact we may have with Wesker and Legato."

_The relationship that Wolf and Leon have is strictly a business one,_ Lucario pointed out, attempting to restore some sense of rationality to the conversation. _Surely Leon wouldn't go so far as to impede our movements from here on?_

But Fox knew Wolf and Leon better than anyone else currently among them, and Falco perhaps best of all; he could sense just what the avian was thinking, and if he was correct in his assumption, the concern was not just unfounded – it was plausible. "Falco thinks that Leon might try to throw his lot in with Legato and Wesker, just to get back at Wolf."

They looked at one another, deep in thought, and finally Link said to Fox, "You know Leon better than anybody else here… does that sound like something Leon would do?"

Fox opened his mouth to say no, but thought better of his own words. A few months ago he would have been prepared to say that Wolf O'Donnell was one of the most heartless, cutthroat men alive – now he knew that Wolf was also one of the most loyal, trustworthy people he could ever have chosen as an ally. Leon's loyalty to Wolf had always been strong – Fox had once heard that Leon had taken a bullet for Wolf in the war, many years ago – but how far would his desire for revenge drive him to go? Was there anything he wasn't prepared to sacrifice, just to get back at Wolf? Was Fox's unorthodox "relationship" with Leon also at risk, now that Leon was little more than a loose cannon?

The vulpine shook his head rigorously from side to side, trying to collect his thoughts enough to answer Link's question. "Leon has always been a real close horse – he keeps to himself, he doesn't get in anyone's way, and he really doesn't say much even when you ask him to. There isn't a single person in the Lylat System who could tell you where Leon really came from, or even if that's his real name. I think Wolf always used that mystique to his advantage – an unknown factor is always more intimidating than one with all the blanks filled in. I wouldn't put anything past Leon at this point. Wolf is the only guy Leon's ever really trusted, and now that that's out the window…"

Pit let his head fall forward into his waiting hands and slumped over, defeated. "This is a disaster. What are we gonna do now?"

Link already had the answer, though he knew none of them would like it. "We wait."

Lucario protested immediately. _You are prepared to sit back and relax while Victoria remains at the mercy of a man whose name we don't even know?!_

"He doesn't mean wait to see what happens to Victoria," Lance observed shrewdly, carefully studying Link's face in order to deduce his real meaning. "He means that we need to watch and be vigilant where Leon is concerned."

"Right," Link agreed with a little smile. "Our number one priority right now is finding Vick. And if that means another fight, then we need to quit bitching like small children and get ready for it. I'll call the house in the morning and let them know what we decided; in the meantime, let's try and get some rest. Who knows how long all of this will take… we need to be at our best."

_Agreed,_ said Lucario, and reaching over he turned out the bedside lamp next to his hospital bed, effectively ending the conversation.

* * *

><p>When Pit and Lance retired to their hospital rooms for the night and Lucario and Link had at last drifted off to sleep, Fox slinked out of the room where they had met and snuck quietly down the hall to the elevators. He descended one floor, thought better of it, and then descended two more – there was no way he was going to have this conversation anywhere near any of his friends.<p>

There was a payphone built into the wall near the hospital cafeteria; he stepped up to it after double- and triple-checking every hallway for any passerby and inserted a quarter he had found on the floor earlier in the day. From his pocket he extracted a torn scrap of paper, on which he had quickly scribbled a telephone number; he lifted the telephone off the cradle and propped it between his right ear and shoulder, and dialed the number with slightly trembling fingers.

The phone rang five times – he almost gave the entire plan up as lost and hung up – but then he heard a muted _click_ that meant the call had been connected. Fox listened with all his might for even a single word, but his quarry said nothing. An invisible vice tightened around the vulpine's chest, and he sucked in a breath. "Leon? Is that you?"

For one of the first times in his life, Leon Powalski actually hesitated. If he was prepared to be perfectly frank, he wasn't at all certain what to say to Fox. He stood there with the small cellular device pressed a little too hard to his ear, contemplating what he was going to say; the silence stretched on for what seemed like days.

"Leon? Are you there?"

"Don't whine at me," Leon finally snapped, and got suddenly serious. "State your business; I am in a hurry."

Fox's insides flared with anger at the informal, almost dismissive greeting. "I'm only calling to tell you that if you're planning on turning traitor on us, I'm not sure how good of an idea it is for us to go through with meeting up."

Leon responded with his trademark callousness, though his tone was a little too icy – had Fox touched a nerve? "As you wish. Consider our scene cancelled."

Fox glanced over his shoulder in order to ensure that he was still alone; the last thing he needed was for any of his friends to round the corner and catch him on the phone with a man who had all but proclaimed himself to be their enemy. He turned back to the payphone he was leaning against, his teeth bared in sudden ferocity. "You can't do that."

"I can, and I will. Have you forgotten which of us is the dominant one?"

"But that isn't fair!" Fox was finding it very difficult to express himself – after all, who could portray anger without raising his voice? "We had a deal! You can't just – "

Leon chuckled, that low, malevolent sound that sounded like dark music to Fox. "I'm not really interested in hearing your views on fairness, junior."

"Don't call me that. I'm not a dog slobbering at your heels for a scrap of meat or something! I'm a fucking _person_. I'm a submissive." Fox threw caution to the winds in that moment and added, "I'm _your_ submissive."

"You _are not_ my submissive," Leon corrected coldly, though the words had set his mind to wandering down an interesting avenue. "Surely a man as astute as you are has already deduced what is going to happen now? Wolf has betrayed me. I do not take kindly to his decision, whether he thinks he has justified them or not. Don't you know what this means?"

All of Fox's instincts were screaming at him to end this now, before someone got hurt either physically or emotionally, but for some reason the words just wouldn't come. He squeezed his hand tighter around the phone for support, as though asking it for courage. "It means that we're gonna have to be careful or this isn't gonna work."

Leon would never admit it, but he nearly dropped his phone at that. "Do you have any idea what you are saying? The next time I see you, I won't be your acquaintance in the off-season. I won't be a rival mercenary you used to take pot shots at in the sky. I'll be your enemy. I won't hesitate to kill Wolf – or you. Are you really prepared to risk – "

"Yes," Fox interrupted breathlessly. "I am." The voice on the other end of the line was momentarily stunned into silence, so the vulpine continued hurriedly, "Look, I don't know what's going on here. I don't know anything about this lifestyle and quite frankly, I'm terrified of what I might be getting myself into. All I know is that whenever I hear Vick talk about this stuff, something inside of me feels alive… and whenever you call yourself my Master, I feel things I've never felt before in my entire life."

"Wolf loves you," Leon said at last, and the knowledge knifed through Fox's heart like an arrow finding its mark. "If he discovers what is going on behind his back, he will never forgive you. Your own life will be forfeit."

"I know," murmured Fox, and already he hated himself.

"Then meet me as arranged," Leon instructed tonelessly, and he abruptly hung up.

Fox stood motionlessly before the payphone for a few seconds longer, scowling at the peeling plaster of the wall, before clenching the black telephone so hard in his hand that he cracked the plastic.

* * *

><p>Vick heaved, though her stomach had nothing to yield in her sudden bout of sickness. Images of a small boy, no older than fifteen, strangling a second boy who looked remarkably like him flitted across her unseeing eyes like snippets of a horror film she had already seen but scarcely recognized. She stammered through a dozen half-formed sentences, but finished none of them. All the while Akabane stood silently by, watching her with eyes as dark and lifeless as a tomb.<p>

"You… You're a…" Vick swallowed hard, but her throat was several sizes too large. "A Kurosawa?!"

Akabane sensed that now was hardly the time for snide remarks, so he simply nodded.

"And you… You murdered… your own twin?!" Vick took two large steps backward, putting some much needed space between herself and the monster she now faced; though he could easily have closed the distance, Akabane remained rooted to the spot and continued to watch her with his eerie eyes. "You killed… your own flesh and blood… WHY?!"

"Of course it sounds monstrous when you say it like that," Akabane chastised quietly. "The blackest act. The very worst kind of blasphemy."

"Well, it is!" Vick shrieked, covering her face with her hands and moaning, terrified and distressed. "You killed your twin!"

Amazingly, Akabane scoffed. "Of course I did. I had no choice."

Vick's voice shot through two octaves in her hysteria. "No _choice?!_"

"That's right," growled Akabane, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits that suggested he was nearing the end of his patience with her. "Do not make the mistake of believing, even for a moment, that I desired this!"

"Then tell me WHY!" Vick shrieked, her storm-gray eyes streaked with lightning.

Akabane turned his back on her; Vick was certain he was about to close himself off from the conversation completely, a cowardly act that she would certainly never have been able to forgive, but the moment he had broken the eye contact he did not attempt to flee. The tension in the air pressed in on Vick from all sides, making her hair stand on end. Akabane spoke in a hoarse whisper. "From a very early age, the children of All God's Village are taught the value and importance of sacrifice; their elders ask them a very simple question that anyone could answer from the earliest stage of comprehension: which is more plausible, the death of a single mortal, or the lives of every citizen in the village?"

Vick glared at his back, despising his unerring logic and everything else about him, and said nothing.

"Well?" pressed Akabane, a note of anger to his tone now. "Don't you agree?"

Vick clenched her hands into tight fists that trembled at her sides. "Were the roles reversed, there is nothing anyone could say or do that would make me destroy the other half of myself! He loved you… he trusted you… he depended on you, and you murdered him with your own hands!"

Akabane turned back and stalked right up to her, shoving his ghostly-white face right up into hers, his dark violet eyes burning crimson in the semi-darkness. "And it is precisely that foolish line of thinking that will eventually be the death of you and everyone you hold dear! Do you not think it has been tried? Do you really believe that my desperate child's mind did not consider every other option, in vain? Do you not suppose that others who were chosen for the ritual ultimately failed in their sacred duty to protect the village, simply because they could not set aside their simple emotional attachments?"

Vick couldn't help but pause, frozen as she was by his terrifying proximity. "Wh-What?"

Akabane's face contorted with sudden cruelty. "Ah, you were convinced that the lot of us were little more than senseless child-killers? That we existed for nothing more than the complete and total assassination of every citizen under the age of sixteen? That brutality was our only aim?" Seeing that Vick had nothing to say, Akabane divulged a little information he had read in his time alone. "There is documented evidence that the last set of twins to be doomed to perform the ritual attempted to escape their fate – I have read it with my own eyes. A pair of twin girls, just thirteen years old… Yae and Sae Kurosawa, my younger sisters."

At last Vick sensed that they had approached a topic she would rather not be privy to. "Akabane…"

"Silence! You _will _listen!" Akabane seized Vick by the forearm, and she knew better than to attempt to struggle to free herself. "Sae understood her duty to the village and had accepted her fate sooner than most do – but she was devoted to Yae, and stood by Yae's decision to escape the village and forsake that duty. Yae cared nothing for the traditions that bound us as a community, or for the consequences of her actions – the cataclysm that would follow their retreat was of very little importance to her. So on the night of the ritual, while the whole of the village busied themselves with the preparations… my sisters fled.

But they did not get very far. The Ceremony Master writes how Sae fell down a slope in the woods, and was too badly crippled to flee any further. The villagers, having learned of the escape, followed the girls into the forest and caught up with Sae. Instead of going back to help her, Yae escaped alone and left Sae to face her fate." Vick gasped aloud, betrayal in her eyes, but Akabane did not slow.

"The prevailing priests were at a loss for what to do. The ritual had never been performed with just a single twin before – a Kusabi, certainly, but one twin is just as you have said: one half of a greater entity. But with the hour of the ritual swiftly approaching and the hell gate threatening to spill forth, they were left with little choice. The Ceremony Master – my father – made the final decision: to sacrifice Sae alone, and to perform the act themselves.

"As you can see, their decision was a poor one. It reduced the village to its current state… all of its citizens mindless, soulless creatures, and the betrayal Sae Kurosawa a hellish curse upon the earth. She exists now only to continue the ritual, no matter the cost."

Vick stared blankly up at Akabane, horrified by all she had learned, and realized that he was gripping her arm so tightly that her fingers tingled from lack of circulation. Instinctively she flexed the digits, and Akabane released her as if on an afterthought. She rubbed her arm thoughtfully, saying, "I… I'm sorry. I had no idea…"

"Of course you didn't," Akabane snapped.

"So… what happens now? Do you think that's why we're constantly running for our lives – because Sae somehow knows you're here, so she's pulling out all the stops to catch up to you?"

Akabane's face tightened as though he were considering the idea, but after a moment he shook his head mutely. "That can't be why… it makes no sense. The ritual I participated in was a successful one… my brother became a butterfly, and the hell gate was sealed. Why she would wish to exact her revenge upon me, I cannot guess."

Seeing that Akabane was struggling beneath the weight of all the terrible knowledge he had gained, Vick squared her shoulders and resolved to follow the original plan he had laid out for them. "There's no point trying to make sense of the hows and whys now – what we need to do is keep moving forward." She fished around in one of the pockets of her kimono and pulled out the stray pinwheel crest she had recovered from House Osaka on Akabane's request, and slipped it into his hand, saying, "How many of these do we need?"

"Three."

"And do you know where they are?"

Akabane patted his breast once, where he had tucked a couple of the smaller documents he would need for future reference. "I have studied their locations well. Unless the Ceremony Master had the items relocated after the cataclysm, their resting places are known to me."

"Then let's just focus on getting what we need to get out of here. What happened with the failed ritual and your sister has nothing to do with you. We need to leave as soon as we can."

Akabane nodded once and beckoned for her to follow him, and Vick fell into step behind him the moment he had turned away.

* * *

><p>The demon lord Sebastian, one of the strongest of his kind, was very thorough in carrying out the order Wolf had given him. He located Wesker and Legato at once, of course – his considerable powers made the task all too easy – and observed them for the rest of the day. Perhaps they were aware of his presence; after all, most free-thinking, empathetic creatures could sense when one of the fell demons were near, associating the lingering feelings of dread and doubt with one of the darkest creatures known to the underworld. They spent the majority of the day together, never speaking, though it was in that period of time that Sebastian perhaps gleaned the most information from them. Legato was content enough to sit in a corner in what appeared to be a deep state of meditation – he adopted this pose for many hours, waking only to relieve himself or ingest something small to keep up his strength. These little things were of great comfort to Sebastian, who was confident that this meant Legato was, in fact, human – though his undeniably strong and altogether irritating command of psychokinetic powers complicated matters a bit.<p>

Albert Wesker, on the other hand, was a bit more of an enigma as far as his origins were concerned. The moment they had arrived at what appeared to be their safe haven – the top floor of a mostly unused office building in downtown Mushroom Kingdom – the first thing Wesker did was enter the combination for a sleek steel case and withdraw a clear syringe equipped with a steel needle. This he stabbed immediately into his forearm and injected an electric-violet serum directly into his bloodstream; barely thirty seconds afterward, Sebastian noted improvements in Wesker's overall health. His wounds appeared to knit themselves, his movements became graceful and controlled again, and his demeanor even seemed to improve. Sebastian was keen enough to memorize the combination to the silver case with the syringes in it – Wolf would undoubtedly want that information for himself, in the event that he ever chose to procure Wesker's medicines for himself. In the time that Legato spent in meditation Wesker busied himself with reading from a laptop computer, monitoring scientific readouts of his own condition, and updating files that seemed to contain information on each and every one of Wolf's friends. Sebastian paid careful attention to the files Wesker updated extensively – Yami's received the most updated information, though Wolf's name came up as well, in addition to Lucario, Mewtwo, Kirby, and Sonic.

All the while Sebastian waited for Wesker to exhibit some sort of human behavior – visiting the restroom or ingesting food of some kind were at the top of his list – but Wesker never once did any of these things. Sebastian ticked off the hours on his fingers from the moment Wesker took his seat and the moment Wesker abandoned the computer: ten hours. No regular human did that.

When Legato stirred in the evening, stretching the soreness and fatigue from his muscles, Wesker all but verbally accosted him. "Are you quite ready?"

Legato blinked, seeming bored already. "Ready?"

"To disembark. The time is perfect – half of their number has arrived back at the mansion by now. The other half is still being hospitalized. We will not get a better opportunity to counterattack."

Sebastian's protective sense tingled, but he managed to quell it with practiced control. The mention of counterattack touched directly on Sebastian's innate sense to defend the object of his contract – Wolf – and knowing that Wolf's friends were more important to the mercenary than Wolf's own life compelled Sebastian to protect them also. The urge to throttle Wesker and Legato now and be done with it was very strong, but Sebastian remembered Wolf's orders: _"You are not to engage them in battle, is that clear? I want them both alive when I get my hands on them."_

Well, he had never once defied a direct order from someone he had contracted with. He would wait.

Legato surprised Sebastian then when he said, "Calm yourself, Albert. There will be no counterattack. At least, not in the manner you are referring to."

Behind his black sunglasses, Wesker's eyes burned crimson with rage. "You presume to defy me?! Who was it who suggested this partnership?! Whose plan is this?! Who decimated their pathetic resistance almost single-handedly?!"

Legato brushed the metallic silver-blue hair out of his eyes and suppressed a chuckle behind his hand; the muscles in Wesker's arms tightened as though he wished he could strangle Legato to death. "You are like a child throwing a temper tantrum in a candy store – this really is almost laughable, Albert. Do you really not see the logic in re-evaluating our plans? Do you really wish for us to be defeated a second time?"

Wesker's teeth clenched together, and his words came out in a hiss. "We were not defeated! They are nothing! They are practically _children!_"

"And yet they were clever enough to predict our assault on their manor," Legato reminded slyly, "and competent enough to turn our advance… they escaped with all of their lives intact, even. When was the last time you set out with the intention to leave a bloody massacre in your wake and found your plans thwarted like this? They are stronger than either of us could foresee."

"Then what is your grand scheme?" Wesker spat back sarcastically, and Legato relaxed back comfortably in his chair.

"Do you not know? It is simple. We wait until they drop their guard, and we systematically eliminate them one by one." Seeing that Wesker was prepared to protest this, Legato overrode him and continued. "They are too strong to tackle all together – do you not see the value in separating them? Together they are a stronger force than perhaps any other – but as individuals, they are nothing. They are weak, and we will break them."

"It isn't like you to run scared," Wesker chided cruelly, and Legato scowled back at him. "What is it that has you on the defensive? Surely you are not that terrified of Akabane Kuroudo?"

The name knifed through Sebastian's focus like an arrow; it shattered all of his sensibilities and nearly made him forget where he was and the objective he had been charged with. The instant Wesker uttered Akabane's name, Sebastian's entire perspective changed; he leaned nearer to the partially-open window, balanced precariously as he was upon the cramped windowsill, and cocked his ear toward them.

Legato's voice had dropped, but Sebastian had no trouble discerning his words. "There is more to that one than meets the eye… did you not sense it when he came to us? He knows far too much, and he is capable of more than you can imagine. If he were to ally himself with that rabble, and turn his abilities against us… It is possible that we will never achieve our objective."

"Then perhaps we should turn our focus upon eliminating him first," Wesker hypothesized, and Sebastian's rage flared so strong and so quickly that his vision tinted red for several seconds – this time, it was much more difficult for him to restrain the desire to put an end to them both.

"Are you being deliberately stupid?" snapped Legato, and it was clear that he was at last nearing the end of his patience. "If there is a chance that we can coerce Akabane into joining us, why would we attack him outright and ruin it? This matter is delicate, so we must treat it as such. We need to locate Akabane and convince him that if he is prepared to choose a side, ours is the one he wants."

"I was certain he would show himself when we attacked the mansion," Wesker confessed, "and I was surprised when he did not. I was convinced he would find the situation worthy of his time."

"Perhaps he did," Legato mused. "After all, you never found the girl."

Sebastian sidled even closer to the window. This was information that Wolf would surely be interested in – after all, he had inquired as to Vick's whereabouts and well-being on his deathbed, had he not?

"I have no explanation for what happened," Wesker admitted begrudgingly. "I was inches away from her and suddenly… she vanished. I lost all sense of her… the sight of her running away from me… the smell of her perfume in the air… her sweat… her fear…"

"While I think that perhaps a serial killer would find your obsession with the girl commendable," interrupted Legato, rolling his eyes, "I think perhaps you are missing the point."

Wesker considered, saying slowly, "You think we didn't come into contact with Akabane because he was busying himself with the girl? How? Why?"

"Who can say?" Legato said with a shrug. "Perhaps you aren't the only one with a morbid fascination where she is concerned."

"Akabane Kuroudo is the reason she disappeared," Wesker told Legato with absolute certainty, and he finished with a deep scowl that prompted Legato to ask him something very strange.

"What is it about this woman Vick Ralis that inspires such dramatic feelings in everyone she meets? Every single person residing in that household was willing to surrender his or her life just to keep her safe. You are willing to wage a war to make her yours. Even Akabane Kuroudo is willing to thwart your plans to get his hands on her, though for what reason I can hardly guess. And why?"

Wesker scoffed as though this hardly mattered. "It doesn't matter why. The simple fact of the matter is this: if we can make her ours, we will have the Brawlers on their knees. They will subject themselves to any manner of humiliation or suffering just to see to her safety."

"I suppose that's true," Legato admitted. "For the time being, though, we should devote our efforts to swaying Akabane to our cause. The three of us together would have no trouble in dispatching the Brawlers. That is our first step toward making this world ours – eliminating the opposition."

"Agreed," sneered Wesker, and the pair fell silent for the time being.

Sebastian relaxed back against the concrete of the outer wall, considering carefully all that he had learned. So… Akabane was not only still alive, but he was supposedly nearby… and now he was directly linked to the same group that Sebastian himself currently served. Inwardly, Sebastian was pleased – he had thought, at the time, that the contract he was forging with Wolf would prove to be boring at best, but now things were shaping up to be quite exciting indeed. Legato and Wesker were worthy opponents, he knew, both men capable of testing Sebastian's considerable talents, and Akabane… well, Sebastian hadn't been in contact with Akabane for decades, but he figured it was safe to assume that the man had learned quite a few tricks along the way. Even a few of the Brawlers were worthy of Sebastian's time…

Yes, thought the demon lord as he vanished from the ledge of the skyscraper, things were certainly shaping up to be interesting.


	19. The One With Shadow's Memory Loss

It wasn't particularly late for any of them – only about one o' clock in the morning - ; Yami was in his room, sifting through his wealth of thoughts and absentmindedly shuffling his precious Duel Monsters deck when he heard music wafting up from one of the lower floors. He set the cards aside, wondering what in the world was going on – but he wasn't being inconvenienced and wouldn't be sleeping well anyway, so he stood up and headed in the direction of the music.

Brawlers Mansion operated much like most college dormitories, Yami reflected fondly, where the atmosphere was very pro-community and everyone kept their doors open unless someone was sleeping or something very private was going on; Pit's greenhouse room was dimly lit and he was laying on his back as Yami passed, staring up through the glassy ceiling at the stars. Blaze was chatting quietly with Sonic and Silver and nodded to him as he walked by, and Kirby's room was empty but Yami could smell coffee brewing even from two floors away. On the second floor Midna was in Wolf's room playing a video game, and at the end of the hallway Falco's door stood open. Yami let himself in to find the avian seated on a large black amplifier that was plugged into the wall – plugged into the amp was a well-cared-for acoustic guitar, which was sitting comfortably in Falco's lap.

The music stopped as Yami entered and Falco's fingers stilled as he glanced up. "Hey, sorry, were you sleeping? I didn't figure anybody…"

Yami shook his head. "I was awake. I just wondered who…" He broke off, admiring the sheen of the guitar's wooden body, and started again. "Have you been playing long?"

"You mean tonight, or in life?" Falco smiled and nodded toward two overstuffed bean bag chairs, personal effects he had taken from Ike when the swordsman had vacated his room. "I started playing right around the time I signed my contract to fly for Star Fox… that was about ten years ago."

Yami sank into the bean bag chairs and relaxed back, though he couldn't remember ever feeling so on-edge before. "So you were how old, then?"

Falco snickered and dropped his gaze back to the guitar, setting his fingers to the appropriate strings and giving the instrument an experimental strum. "Let's not bring age into a pleasant conversation, eh?"

The pharaoh laughed. "Considering I am technically several thousand years your senior, that seems like a fair request. So how did you learn?"

The A string was a little flat in Falco's ear; he ceased his strumming and re-tuned it, occasionally plucking the string until he seemed satisfied with the sound. Yami, being nothing close to musically inclined, could not hear a change no matter how hard he listened, and so he watched Falco at work with open fascination. His fascination turned to awe when the avian answered, "I taught myself."

"What?!" Yami exclaimed in surprise. "How?!"

Falco shrugged as if he had done nothing spectacular at all. "Stole a couple of how-to books from some library on one of the stations in the fringe." He winked conspiratorially before finishing, "Security sucks on the fringe. Ask Wolf about it sometime – he once told me that he robbed a bank on the fringe because his team was short on funding for the new line of Wolfen-class spacecraft… not only did they get away with all the cash they needed, but they were never convicted of the crime AND it didn't make galactic news until about two weeks later."

Yami laughed, impressed. "Still… that must have taken a lot of time. You've been fighting in wars for the last ten years, how did you…?"

"Dude: I'm a merc, not a soldier. There are tons of differences between the two: soldiers are drafted and contracted, forced to serve for several years at a time with no leave and crappy benefits. Mercenaries aren't contracted soldiers – we're hitmen-for-hire. We do things on our own schedule and we offer our services to the highest bidder. Usually, we have a hell of a lot of time on our hands; General Pepper only hires us out to complete special missions, usually ones where Andross had already hired out Star Wolf to do something. Mercenaries are kind of on their own playing field, see." Falco strummed a little, humming various pitches to himself as he checked all of the other strings to make sure they were in tune, and then finished, "Since we have so much time on our hands, we kinda have to take up hobbies to pass the time. One of mine was learning the guitar. I play electric and bass, too."

"Interesting." Yami considered what he had learned, watching Falco's fingers in their skillful strumming, before asking, "What hobbies did the others take up?"

Falco rolled his eyes. "Fox tried painting once… you can guess how that ended up." Yami snickered under his breath, trying to picture the vulpine mercenary commander with a paintbrush in his hand, and Falco went on. "Slippy went mechanical, he's been doing modifications and upgrades to all of our equipment since he was fourteen… Somebody once told me that Leon took up anatomy and physiology study – you know, since Andross had him employed as an interrogator, and that kind of work can get pretty messy - , but Wolf once said that Leon reads tarot cards too."

Yami tried to imagine Leon Powalski divining fortunes with occult cards spread out before him, and found that his imagination wasn't up to the task. "Leon, a mystic?"

"I've never seen him do it, but Wolf once told me that Leon used to give them a tarot reading before all of their huge missions… and he was never wrong." Falco shrugged as if to say he didn't put much stock into these claims. "Now, Wolf has been in it longer than any of us, and has more weird-ass skills than all of us put together. Don't tell him I told you any of this stuff, by the way, because he would go ape-shit if he heard I was sharing his secrets." The avian waited for Yami to cross himself before he went on. "Did you know that Wolf's got a head for numbers?"

"Get out. Are you serious? As in, what… he was once a mathematician?"

"Close… actually, Wolf was in accounting for awhile. Supposedly he got a degree for it online through the Corneria School of Finance, though now that I think about it I've never seen any proof…" Falco's eyes glazed over for a moment as he considered this, then he appeared to snap back to the present. "Anyway… he's been keeping his own finances in line for seven or eight years. A few years back my taxes weren't exactly in line, so I asked him if he could get things straightened out for me… haven't heard from the IRS since."

Yami ogled at Falco. "That seems so out of character for him…"

"I know, right? It's bizarre – once, when Fox was broke and couldn't find side-work or a place to live, Wolf got him a killer mortgage on a house in a really nice district in Corneria City Proper. And when we needed the Landmaster for some land-based missions that Star Wolf wasn't opposing us on, and we didn't have the cash advances to cover its use, Wolf worked with our loan department to get us cleared on it. He's like a miracle worker with money. Which reminds me – don't EVER try to beat him at Monopoly. I'm serious. He'll mop the floor with your face."

"Are you kidding?" asked Yami with a chuckle, but Falco's face was deadly serious.

"Dude, I watched him and Fox play one time… twenty minutes. No joke. Fox practically ran out of the room screaming."

"You're kidding now," Yami insisted. "There's no way…"

Falco shrugged his shoulders and picked out a tune on the guitar, effectively ending the conversation; Yami closed his mouth and leaned closer, mesmerized by the avian's talent. He was even more surprised when, after a few opening riffs, Falco started to sing:

"_Yeah, you've been alone,_

_I've been gone for far too long_

_But with all that we've been through_

_After all this time, I'm coming home to you_

_Never let it show, the pain I've grown to know_

'_Cuz with all these things we do_

_It don't matter when I'm coming home…_

_I reach towards the sky_

_I've said my goodbyes_

_My heart's always with you now_

_I won't question why_

_So many a time my prayers have made it through, yeah_

'_Cuz with all these things we do_

_It don't matter when I'm coming home to you."_

It was at that moment that Wolf and Midna poked their heads around the doorframe, interrupting Falco's song. "Sounds familiar, bird. What is it?"

Falco glanced up, adjusting the volume on the amplifier as he did so. "It's an Avenged Sevenfold tune. I started getting familiar with their stuff when we met Vick… they're a good band. I was just… thinking about her."

He kept his head lifted defiantly as he said this, as though waiting for someone to poke fun at him, but Midna hugged herself tightly and said, "Me too… I can't get her out of my head. I think we should search again in the morning."

"Lance and Sonic were saying the same thing a few hours ago," Wolf told them.

The lupine and the Twilight Princess admitted themselves just as Yami tactfully changed the topic. "So Falco… you don't just play. You've got a decent voice, too."

Falco shrugged, though he looked quietly pleased by Yami's compliment. "Decent, I guess. It's nothing like Vick's… that girl's got one hell of a voice. She could get herself out of bartending if she'd just start a band or something."

Yami seemed to have taken it upon himself to steer their minds in a different direction – it was easy to see just how downtrodden everyone was at the prospect of never seeing Vick again. "You were telling me about off-season hobbies… I remembered what you said last week, about getting Marth and me into the modeling scene." He ignored Wolf's snicker at the mention of modeling and finished, "How long were you into it?"

The avian stopped strumming to think back, comically scratching through the feathers along the back of his head with his guitar pick as he did so. "Off and on for, oh, three years? Most of the guys here made fun of me for it when I let it slip last month, but the money was good and I got to travel a lot, which I love. I was hot on the runways in Corneria City… a representative from one of the biggest modeling agencies in the galaxy offered me a gig modeling for his up-and-coming neo-goth line for the next season, but Pepper called us back into action so I had to break it off. A commitment's a commitment."

"And he'd have been a complete fucking moron if he'd quit flying," Wolf put in, his single good eye twinkling at Falco with something like pride in its depths. "He goes on and on about modeling, but this kid is an ace pilot – better than any I've ever seen, and I've seen 'em all. It's his calling in life."

"Yeah, yeah," mumbled Falco, but his beak had blushed crimson with flattery.

Midna stood up, stretching luxuriously and checking the digital clock on Falco's nightstand – one thirty. "I'm getting a beer – anybody else game? It'll be at least five before I catch any z's."

"Same, doll," called Wolf, and when Falco and Yami both nodded in agreement she stepped out and headed for the kitchen. Yami was looking thoughtful.

"Were you really serious when you said that I would do well modeling the gothic line with you?"

Falco twanged a string a little too hard in his shock; it made an unpleasant thrumming sound that made both him and Wolf wince. The avian laid his hand across the string to stifle the sound, eyeing Yami suspiciously. "Serious as a heart attack – like I told the guys, I have a minor in fashion design. I have an eye for that sort of thing; I know what designers are looking for, and when it comes to goth, you've got it."

Yami flexed his fingers reflexively, wishing he hadn't left his Duel Monsters deck in his room – the absentminded shuffling motion had a soothing effect on him. He kept his gaze locked on the floor when he said, "I've been thinking that I'd like to try it."

_TWANG_. This time, Falco broke a string; he gaped at Yami for ten whole seconds before he even noticed what he'd done, and he cursed when he did. Digging in his guitar case he came up with a new string, and laying the instrument across his lap he proceeded to unstring the broken one. He continued to eye Yami with skeptism, and when the King of Games regarded him evenly Falco finally gasped, "You serious?"

Yami spread his hands. "There isn't exactly a high demand for Duel Monsters Champions in this area. I'll continue to play while I'm here, of course – it's my only means of staving off Wesker and Legato – but it won't fill my wallet in the meantime. I have one condition."

"What's that?" asked Falco, tossing the ruined string aside.

"If I'm going, you're coming with me."

Falco snickered under his breath as though he had just won a battle. "Sold. We can go tomorrow afternoon."

Yami nearly toppled off his bean bag chair; relaxing back on Falco's futon, Wolf snorted in amusement. Midna was just walking in, her arms laden with bottles, when Yami choked out, "What?! Why so soon?!"

Falco accepted a long-necked bottle from Midna and passed one over to Yami, who took it immediately and popped the top off to take a grateful swig. "Why not? You just said you wanted to go, so we'll go. I told you, I have connections – I had that gig for a long time and a lot of agencies are familiar with my work. I know a chick in Corneria City who works for Fortunata Fashions – she'd give us a walk-in consultation at least, and probably get you a tour of the facility. If she isn't too busy, she might even show us some runway samples."

Wolf downed half his beer in a single swig, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand as he said, "You are almost as queer as Marth, bird. Not quite… but close."

Again, Falco just shrugged; he was nearly finished re-stringing his guitar by now. "All this coming from the guy who's been secretly banging his rival mercenary commander for God-knows-how-long… Yeah, you have room to judge me."

"How's that been going, anyway?" Midna asked Wolf idly, curling up comfortably on the shag rug at the foot of the futon, and Wolf couldn't quite suppress a sigh.

"It hasn't been." Wolf quaffed another long draw from his bottle, looking dismayed. "Kinda backwards from the way I thought it would go… when he showed up here, I figured we'd just pick up where we left off. But ever since he took that gig at Black Sapphire remodeling vintage ships he's been busy as hell, and whenever he's not there he seems distant. Like the lights are on but nobody's home, you know what I mean?"

"Doesn't sound like Fox," Falco admitted, hefting the guitar back up into a playing position and plucking the new string, tuning it as he did so. "He doesn't have the brains to be preoccupied. He's a one-track-mind kind of guy."

"And normally I'd agree with you, bird, but…" Wolf glanced at the door, even going so far as to peer around the doorframe to make sure no one was lingering in the hallway before he turned back to face the three of them, pitching his voice lower when he confided, "A couple of weeks back, when I was up trying to get a drink of water at stupid-o-clock in the morning, I caught him on the phone with somebody. And they weren't just shooting the breeze, if you know what I mean."

"You caught him having phone sex with somebody?!" Midna gasped, her hands flying up to her mouth, but Wolf shook his head.

"Nah – believe me, if I had, he wouldn't still be breathing," the lupine promised, a vengeful glint in his single blue eye. "But it was a really loaded conversation… something about a break from the mundane… I could quote you the whole damn conversation word-for-word if I hadn't been punched around so much lately."

Falco finally asked the vital question. "Who was he talking to?"

Wolf lurched forward, massaging his temples with his fingertips; he had the look of a man who was desperately trying to add two and two together and somehow kept coming up with five. "That's what's kicking my ass – the voice was so familiar, but I couldn't place it. It was somebody I know, though. I know it."

"You sure…?" Falco pressed, looking skeptical.

"I'm positive. Like I said when it happened – my ears work great." Wolf finished his beer, looking irritated that the bottle was empty, but thankfully Midna had brought as many as she could carry so he cracked open a second one, tipping the bottle in her direction in a kind of wordless thanks. "Can we talk about something else? This is pissing me off."

Falco balanced his beer on the edge of his amp and glanced over at Midna. "So – you over Link yet?"

"Over him?" Midna laughed heartily, and the sound was genuine enough, to everyone's surprise. "Trust me, I was over that fool the second I saw him playing tonsil hockey with Zelda – that sleazy bitch. Leave it to her to ruin something for me."

Falco was smiling quietly to himself and shaking his head, strumming through a few chords and trying to piece a harmony together. In response to Midna's irate glare he laughed once and explained, "She did you a favor by stealing him away, honestly – you would've just gotten caught up in the shitstorm that's about to blow through here anyway. Trust me. Huge drama. I give it forty-eight hours."

"What's that supposed to mean?" snapped Midna, and Falco leaned conspiratorially closer.

"I mean that earlier tonight when I talked to Link, he outed himself."

Yami gasped. "You don't mean…?"

"You bet your ass I do. He finally got over his angst bullshit, and he's gonna go for it with Lucario."

Midna and Yami were both wearing expressions of blatant shock, but Wolf cackled darkly to himself and muttered, "It's about fuckin' time. Weren't they on the verge of that last month? What happened, anyway?"

Falco nodded in Midna's direction. "Princess One and Princess Two happened, and Luca was pissed as hell at the time, but listening to Link's story just makes me feel sorry for the poor bastard. I could see in his eyes that he was really struggling with the prospect of being gay… he threw himself into that fling with Zelda because he was trying to convince himself that he was straight after all. Obviously it didn't work, but yeah, Midna, did you really want to be part of that mess?"

Midna wrinkled her nose, though at the prospect of being involved in drama or the idea that Link was a homosexual, no one asked. "When you put it that way, not really, no."

"That's what I figured."

"So what's the deal with all the men in this house?" Midna whined, swilling her remaining beer in its bottle by idly rotating her wrist. "Do they put something in the water in this place? Are all of you gay?"

"Hey," said Falco, looking insulted. "Whoa. Back it up there. I'm not gay."

"He means there's a more sophisticated, technical term for 'fucking everything that breathes'," corrected Wolf, laughing so hard in between gulps that beer dribbled down his chin.

"Yeah, they call it 'bisexual'," Midna argued. "And I SO don't believe in that."

Falco and Wolf were staring at Midna as though she had just gutted a puppy right in front of them; Yami took a drink, chuckled once, and said to her, "Those are the faces of two men whose dreams have just been smashed. What's the matter, Midna? The idea of a little girl-on-girl action not appealing to you?"

"Not in the slightest," she admitted, shaking her head as though disgusted; her burnt-auburn hair cascaded down her shoulders in beautiful bronze ringlets. "If I wanted some vag, I would've been born a dude. I don't get it! Why all of a sudden is it cool to be gay around here?!"

Wolf leaned forward, gesturing to Falco and Yami to lay back; he already had an answer prepared. "I can tell you that, from the perspective of a soldier, the word you're looking for is 'adaptation'."

"I don't follow you."

"Well, sure you don't – not with that princess-bitch attitude." Midna glowered at him; Wolf ignored her and kept going. "It's a pretty simple concept, honestly – when you're out in space and you have no clue when you'll be docking at the next resupply station, much less when you'll see your next halfway-decent-looking girl, you have to learn how to lower your expectations if you want to keep your sanity."

"He means that when you share a spaceship with a team of all-male mercenaries, you can't be opposed to… that sort of thing," Falco explained evasively, and he and Wolf shared a loud, raucous laugh and clinked their bottles together companionably.

Midna was looking less than impressed. "You're that desperate? Don't you have any self control?"

Wolf's face went from jovial to deathly serious in the blink of an eye. "Ever been stuck aboard ship for eight months without making port?"

"No," Midna admitted, and her jewel-bright eyes were suddenly very wide at the prospect of such a lengthy span of time.

"That's what I thought. Your hand stops looking quite so appealing after about the first two; after that, you have to choose between your dignity and your sanity." Wolf shrugged. "I pick my sanity every single time, babe, trust me."

"You too?" Midna questioned Falco suddenly, a pleading look in her eyes, but the avian would prove to be no help to her either.

"I kinda prefer guys to chicks anymore," Falco admitted, and when Midna looked horrified he hastened to say, "Don't get me wrong – girls are way softer, and the curves still get me like nothing else does, but there are benefits to being with another dude."

"Such as?"

"A guy knows how another guy wants to be touched." Falco's gaze was far away, and when Wolf's eyes flitted across Yami's face, he noticed that the King of Games was keeping his head down in a poor attempt to hide a blush. "And you don't have to be careful with guys. Most of the guys I know are right here, and they've all been to hell and back, same as me. You don't need to treat them like they're glass or something. In my experience, chicks hate it when you try to get rough with them."

"I can think of one that doesn't," Wolf chipped in, and he sipped at his beer with a smile on his face.

"Who?"

"Vick. Who else?"

Midna wrinkled her nose again. "I don't see it… I mean, Vick is a pretty assertive girl; she doesn't hide her feelings and she says what's on her mind, always. I'm still not sure I buy your story."

Yami glanced back and forth between the mercenary commander and the Twilight Princess, looking mildly confused now. "Story? Did I miss something?"

"Yeah…" Wolf chuckled in his gruff voice. "The night I got scarred for life looking for a glass of water I overheard Vick and Wesker doing some things that were definitely X-rated, if you know what I mean."

"Like…?"

"You sure you wanna go there, kid? It was pretty explicit from what I heard…"

Yami fixed Wolf with a glare, even leaning forward in his bean bag chair, balancing a half-empty beer bottle on his raised knee. "Kid? I'm older than all of you by about five thousand years. Try me."

"Hey, whatever, it's your brain that's exploding, not mine." Wolf's single eye glittered almost ominously. "I heard whip cracks."

Yami spat out a mouthful of beer; the others gasped at this, shocked. The act of wasting beer, accidental or not, was practically a sin at Brawlers Mansion. "Vick, using a whip? Not a chance!"

"Oh… I don't think she was the one using it." Wolf winked. "That's the part Midna can't wrap her head around… I think that Vick is a submissive, and that she's been active in the BDSM scene for a long time. I tried to joke with her about it a few days later, but she got offended really easy… not sure if it's a touchy subject, or if she's trying to hide it, or what. Regardless… I think she was under the whip that night, and Wesker was acting as her Dom."

Falco was eyeing Wolf suspiciously, and when the lupine returned his gaze he pried, "You sound like you're awfully familiar with the BDSM scene yourself. Submissive? Dom? You even know the terminology… are you into it too?"

"Me? Nah." Wolf was shaking his head. "Don't tell me you don't know Leon's side work of choice when the war isn't on?" Seeing Falco's dazed look the lupine elaborated. "He works as a professional Dom in the offseason. He hosts seminars and how-to sessions sometimes… he keeps a schedule with submissives that he meets at those things and does private scenes with them."

A shiver coursed down Falco's spine, and he shuddered. "Between the anatomy and physiology work that I know he does and now his moonlight Dom status, I feel like I know that creepy little shit too well. And now I feel like I need a shower."

Wolf set his beer down on the bedside table and shoved himself off the futon; three pairs of eyes followed him out the door, then three sets of ears listened to his gentle predator's footfalls as they retreated down the hall. They heard the faint sounds of him rummaging in his closet, and when he returned he deposited a used bar of soap into Falco's unassuming hand. The avian gazed up at him wordlessly, perfectly dumbfounded. In response to Falco's baffled expression Wolf said simply, "You said you needed a shower, so go on. Get to it. I'm convinced at this point that that's magic soap. Seriously. I got it from Marth."

Falco stripped off his shirt and tossed it into a corner – prompting another blush from Yami – and slinging a towel over his shoulder he loped out of the room. Midna followed soon after him, muttering mutinously under her breath about homosexuals. Wolf retrieved his beer, watching Yami with a knowing, practiced eye. "Are you maybe a little smitten?"

Yami attempted to play dumb. "Huh?"

"Oh come on, Pharaoh – I'm not an idiot. I can tell when somebody's hard up and you've been hitting on Falco since I walked in the door… probably before then, too." Yami's blush deepened, flooding his neck with color, and Wolf winked at him. "That flea-ridden carrion bird is just too dense to notice. That's a trait him and Fox both share. So? You interested in him?"

Yami shrugged his narrow shoulders once, though the crimson still darkening his cheeks and the excited twinkle in his violet eyes gave away his real feelings. "He's… a lot of fun to be around. Would he be… interested… in someone like me?"

Wolf snorted into his beer. "You kidding? You're exactly his type: skinny, nerdy, smart, pretty for a guy, and blonde. Falco's got a thing for blondes. And now you're getting into fashion? You'll be sleeping together before the week is out. Leave it to me. I'll get the ball rolling."

It was at that moment that, silent as a specter, Sebastian ghosted around the doorframe and into their midst. Wolf leapt up at once, cocked his head toward the door, and the lupine dashed out with his demon butler at his heels, leaving Yami staring confusedly after them. Wolf led the way down the hall to his own bedroom, and the moment they were both inside he shut the door firmly behind Sebastian and locked it. Sebastian dipped a quick little bow before Wolf could tell him to knock it off.

"What did you find out?" Wolf asked immediately, his voice pitched low despite the lateness of the hour, and Sebastian cracked the tiniest half smile he could manage.

"Legato Bluesummers and Albert Wesker are alive and well, and residing here in Mushroom Kingdom," the demon began indulgently, and his red eyes were gleaming with something like barely contained excitement. "They are currently calling the quarters of the executive floor of a skyscraper in the downtown area their safe haven – I can give you the precise location and address, if you wish."

Wolf was already pacing, but he shook his head at Sebastian's offer. "No way. We won't be infiltrating that place after them – it's too dangerous right now. Half of our group is recovering from getting their asses kicked the first time and the other half isn't even out of the goddamned hospital yet." He shot a suspicious glance at Sebastian, as if sizing up his loyalty and trustworthiness, before adding, "I want you to be ready to check them out again at a moment's notice. If we don't stay one step ahead of them, we'll just be getting our asses kicked at every turn… did you find out anything else? Did they say anything – "

"They discussed a change in tactics," Sebastian told him, watching Wolf wear a path in the carpet. "They have decided not to attack the mansion again, or to challenge your collective group… they are opting for a divide and conquer method."

"They're going after us one by one next," Wolf translated, and he collapsed heavily onto his bed, looking suddenly exhausted. "Son of a bitch… there isn't a single one of us who could hold up against both of them and hope to survive. And I don't figure they mentioned who was first on their hit list?"

"Not outright, but Wesker appears to be keeping updated information in electronic form regarding each and every one of your talents. I observed him altering these files, and I can give you the names of those whom he seemed particularly interested in: Yami, Lucario, Mewtwo, Sonic, Kirby, and yourself."

Wolf was nodding along slowly. "Then we need to make sure those guys get the most protection in the days to come."

Sebastian declined his head to show that he was happy to take on the task. "It will be done."

The lupine seemed to be struggling within himself, caught on the verge of asking a question but obviously terrified to hear the answer; in the end he sucked in a deep breath and asked, "They got Vick, didn't they?"

"They did not."

It was amazing how quickly Wolf's demeanor improved; he sat up a little straighter and his face lifted into an expression that was undeniably hopeful. "Are you serious?!"

The corner of Sebastian's mouth twitched upward into a kind of half-smile. "They both mentioned how odd it was that she disappeared without a trace in the middle of the forest… especially when Wesker had her in plain sight and suddenly lost her."

Wolf tilted his head to one side, looking perfectly puzzled. "Sonic and Silver said her footprints just came to a stop in the woods… I figured they were seeing things…"

Sebastian hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to continue, certain that his heart would be pounding frantically in his chest if he had one. At last he said, "They seem to think that Akabane is behind her disappearance, though they are at a loss as to why."

The demon's suppositions were confirmed when Wolf asked, "Who's… wait… the guy in the black hat?! Is that his name?!"

It was Sebastian's turn to look confused. "You are not acquainted with him? But how can that be?"

Wolf's expression soured; he appeared to be reliving a memory he would have preferred to forget. "Here's the extent of our relationship: first, he sneaks into our house in the middle of the night and makes me tear around the mansion and the forest after him with only a stupid hat to show for it – which he later snuck in and stole back without even being spotted, by the way! And somewhere in the middle of that he rescued Vick from Wesker and Legato, left her on top of a church, and got away without being seen. Again."

His butler's expression was almost comical; Sebastian appeared to be digesting the information slowly, regarding Wolf as though he had spoken in a foreign language. At last he said, "So… You do not count Akabane among your allies, then."

"Let's just say that I didn't even know the bastard's name until about a minute ago," growled Wolf, and then sudden comprehension dawned on him and he added, "Wait a second… You know his name! Okay, start talking – how do you know this guy Akabane?!" Sebastian's eyes glittered mutinously, but Wolf didn't back down; it was in a forbidding voice that he first exerted the influence of his contract over the demon when he snapped, "That's not a request."

"Akabane is someone very dear to me from my distant past," Sebastian answered coldly. "That is all you need to know for now. If he has been in contact with several of you, as it seems he has been, perhaps I will see him sometime in the near future. Then you will see the depth of our bond."

Wolf ran a hand down his face, looking harassed. "It's one crazy after another with you people. I knew this was a shitty idea. Now I'm stuck with a demon butler walking half a step behind me whose best pal is some psychopath whose idea of unwinding at the end of the day is to chuck scalpels at people and kidnap helpless women. What the hell did I get myself into?"

"If you are so opposed to this," Sebastian chuckled softly, "then I can simply devour your soul as promised, and make good on our contract right now."

Wolf's single blue eye was steely with grim resolve. "Not on my watch. It's like I told you – there's too much that needs to be done before I can cash in. So what's the deal? What's this guy Akabane want with Vick? Because I have to tell you, whether you vouch for him or not, if he so much as looks at her sideways – "

Sebastian derailed Wolf's train of thought with a frown. "At this point I cannot say what he hopes to gain through kidnapping her… Such a thing is not in his nature anyway. Personally I think it is highly unlikely that he apprehended her with malicious intentions."

Wolf cocked an eyebrow at that. "This guy left her on top of a church, and you know what? The note he left us cluing us in to where she was, was stuck to a brick wall with a scalpel. Proof that maybe this guy isn't just unpredictable, he's batshit crazy."

"Akabane isn't crazy," Sebastian insisted. "He's brilliant, and misunderstood. In fact, if you'll allow me to venture a guess as to what really happened…" He trailed off, waiting for Wolf to give him the go-ahead, and when the lupine waved him on Sebastian said, "It's entirely possible that, in an attempt to thwart Wesker's plans, Akabane lured your friend to a place where Wesker wouldn't have a chance of finding her."

Wolf's already raised eyebrow shot up even higher at this. "That's a pretty specific guess. You have some place in mind?"

Sebastian nodded solemnly, though his expression had warped somewhat – if it was possible, he looked somehow bleak. "All God's Village." In response to Wolf's puzzled look he added, "It is a lost village that is located in the woods a few miles away from here, though I am not surprised that your friends did not stumble across it while they were searching for the girl. The village can only be found by those who have seen it with their own eyes, or by those who find it without looking for it."

Ever the skeptic, Wolf snorted derisively and said, "You yankin' my chain?"

"Absolutely not." Sebastian smiled indulgently. "And, quite honestly, I find the insinuation insulting."

"Whatever. Tell me this then – if that's true, how did Vick find it?"

"The answer to that is simple; Akabane must have led her to it. You see, he was born there, and he lived there as a child – it would be all too easy for him to make his way back there whenever he chose. Luring your friend there would be no challenge for him at all."

Wolf looked less suspicious of Sebastian's claims now, but his expression still suggested that he wasn't one hundred percent sold on the idea. "I'm starting to get the feeling that this village isn't exactly a family vacation spot, is it?"

Sebastian had been rather hoping Wolf wouldn't ask this question, knowing that the mercenary commander wouldn't care for the answer. "If it still practices the traditions that it did when I was familiar with it, it is a place in which a ritual is observed in which one twins kills the other twin in order to keep a portal to hell sealed."

All the blood drained out of Wolf's face and he barely had the breath to rasp out the words, "Are you shitting me?!"

* * *

><p>It was a good thing Falco didn't drop the towel around his waist when he wandered back into his room after his shower – Yami was there, and so was Mewtwo, both of them silent and facing the door as though waiting for him. Falco managed to snag the corner of the towel before it fell too far – did Yami's eyes skim down the avian's body then? Falco considered himself perceptive enough, and supposed he hadn't imagined it. He opened his beak to question them but Yami pressed a finger to his lips insistently, and the moment Falco was clear of the door Mewtwo's eyes flashed white and he eased it shut with his psychic powers. In response to the question Falco hadn't yet asked, Yami whispered, "Something is up."<p>

Falco rolled his eyes and stepped between them, yanking open his closet, stepping inside, and shutting himself in. There followed the sound of hands rummaging in the semi-darkness, and the soft sounds of clothes being sifted through. His voice was slightly muffled when he said, "You work fast, genius – what gave it away? The fact that half of us are still in the hospital? Or the fact that Vick has been missing for days?"

It was Mewtwo who answered him. _That isn't what he means. Do you remember that strange doctor who came in a few minutes after Wolf came around? He's here now._

They both heard, quite keenly, the sounds of rummaging abruptly cease. "That guy who was obviously not a doctor? Tall, thin, handsome in a Count Dracula kind of way?"

_The very same. I saw him myself. I was downstairs with Kirby when he appeared – and I mean that he did just that. We were in the kitchen brewing coffee for everyone, and he simply materialized in the living room as if he had been there all the time. Before I could address him, he had gone upstairs._

"And just now he showed up in here," Yami added, and he sounded distinctly unnerved. "The moment Wolf saw him, he practically ran out of here."

There came the sound of Falco tripping over something, followed by a curse, and then the closet doors were flung open; Falco stepped over a guitar case, his feathers rumpled and sticking out in odd directions, wearing a pair of roomy black sweatpants that hung low on his waist and nothing else. He paused to retrieve the half-drunk beer he had left on his amplifier and flipped the switch to cut the power to the amp as an afterthought before straightening up and regarding the two of them. Mewtwo was looking suspicious, Yami mildly alarmed. "Ran out of here as in left the house, or ran out of here as in, he's probably still around here somewhere?"

_With Vick missing, I can't imagine he would go very far,_ Mewtwo reminded, and Falco conceded the logic without further question.

"Then let's go see what we can figure out," Falco told them, and after taking a swig of his beer he laid the bottle aside and eased the door open; peering stealthily around the corner to one side and then the other he beckoned for them to follow, and he tiptoed down the hall to Wolf's bedroom. Sure enough, the mercenary commander's door was closed. The avian didn't dare open it for fear of missing something vital, and instead leaned closer and gently laid his ear to the wooden surface.

"…Maybe this guy isn't just unpredictable, he's batshit crazy," Falco clearly heard Wolf say, and he instinctively pressed his ear a little more firmly to the door.

"Akabane isn't crazy. He's brilliant, and misunderstood. In fact, if you'll allow me to venture a guess as to what really happened… It's entirely possible that, in an attempt to thwart Wesker's plans, Akabane lured your friend to a place where Wesker wouldn't have a chance of finding her."

Falco's brow furrowed with every word, until the expression was so deeply etched into his face that it might have been carved into his features permanently. He didn't recognize the speaker's voice at all, but that only made him certain that it belonged to the man in question who had claimed to be Wolf's doctor. Turning his head slightly to the right he caught Yami's gaze and mouthed the words, _Who's Akabane?_

_Who?_ Yami mouthed back, but Falco realized then that the voice of Wolf's supposed doctor was speaking again and he re-focused on the conversation happening on the other side of the door. "…Woods a few miles away from here, though I am not surprised that your friends did not stumble across it while they were searching for the girl. The village can only be found by those who have seen it with their own eyes, or by those who find it without looking for it."

The avian's heart picked up speed and hammered against his ribs at a frantic double-time, and jerking his head around so that Mewtwo and Yami could both read his lips very clearly he mouthed, _He knows where Vick is!_

_What?! _Mewtwo's exclamation knifed through their minds, with enough volume to make them both wince. _How can you be sure?! Did he say – _

Falco waved for Mewtwo to be quiet, for he was missing something he was certain was vital. "…Easy for him to make his way back there whenever he chose. Luring your friend there would be no challenge for him at all."

"I'm starting to get the feeling that this village isn't exactly a family vacation spot, is it?" Falco heard Wolf say, and the avian was floored by what he heard next.

"If it still practices the traditions that it did when I was familiar with it, it is a place in which a ritual is observed in which one twins kills the other twin in order to keep a portal to hell sealed."

Falco lurched away from the door as though it had physically burned him; he jerked his head once to the others to indicate that they would do well to leave now before their presence became known, and they snuck the short distance back down the hallway to Falco's room. Yami wisely closed the door behind him, but didn't lock it even though they all wished they could – no one locked a door in Brawler's Mansion, as none of them had said goodbye to their dignities long ago, and if someone found a door locked it was sure to arouse suspicion. Falco turned to them at once, his voice coming out in a muted hiss. "That guy definitely knows what the hell's been going on around here WAY better than we do, and now Wolf knows a ton more than he's been letting on… What gives? They're going on and on about some guy named Akabane and how supposedly he led Vick into some whacked-out village where siblings kill each other. This is starting to sound like some seriously messed up horror movie."

"Slow down," murmured Yami urgently. "What village? And who's killing each other?"

But Mewtwo was prepared to offer some answers. _Can he mean All God's Village and the Crimson Sacrifice Ritual? But that's absurd. Surely Wolf wouldn't believe – _

"Back up," Falco demanded in an undertone. "Translation, please."

_Legends,_ Mewtwo explained, shaking his head all the while. _Ridiculous folklore, myths that cannot possibly be believed… there is a tale in this region about a village whose citizens partake in a ritual whose purpose is to continually sacrifice one of a pair of twins in order to satisfy the dark designs of some fell entity. Certain variations of the legend even go so far as to state that the deity being satisfied is the devil himself, who will unleash hell upon earth if the civilians do not pay to him what is owed._

There was silence for the span of three heartbeats, and then Falco hissed, "That's fucked up."

_Agreed,_ said Mewtwo, and he snorted derisively as if to say that he didn't believe a word of what he had just told them.

Throughout Mewtwo's explanation Yami had been silent, the expression on his face one of deep brooding; after a moment he snapped his fingers, looking victorious, and muttered, "Akabane must be the name of the man in the black hat Wolf has been seeing. It's the only logical explanation."

"Logical?" snapped Falco. "There's nothing about any of this that makes any kind of sense! Vick disappears and now you guys think she was kidnapped by some guy that none of us knows and they wound up at some sibling-murdering summer camp? Come on! There's no proof that any of this is real! Mewtwo said himself that these are just legends! Why suddenly is that the explanation for everything?"

"And yet Vick is still missing," Yami shot back, unfazed, "and we never saw that guy in the black hat the whole time we were fighting, and next you'll tell us that Wolf coming back to life after he flat-lined really was divine intervention."

That brought Falco up short; he floundered for words, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, before finally he gave up and threw his hands in the air. "This is insane. Tell me we are not considering the possibility that Vick is trapped in some godforsaken village somewhere with some guy that may or may not be a crazy psychopathic killer."

_What other options are left for us to consider?_ Mewtwo asked, still looking skeptical but forcing himself to consider the improbable nonetheless. _She's somewhere, and for whatever reason she hasn't come back yet. Either she is being held somewhere against her will… or we must accept this story as truth._

Falco turned away from the pair of them and gazed out the window at the darkened grounds. Everything was still and silent; the lake eerily resembled glass and the trees were as unmoving as statues. The moment the moon sliced through the clouds, the blood they had spilt together several nights previous was clearly visible even from a distance. Though he wanted to scream, he bit it back. Deep down he knew they were just as terrified for Vick's safety as he was.

"Regardless," he whispered, "the second the sun comes up, I'm going back out there to look for her."

* * *

><p>Vick lowered the camera, her hands trembling slightly, to find that the ghost she had been battling had vanished with the final click of the shutter button. The graveyard was as eerily quiet as it had been before that, solemn and miserable like the inside of a mausoleum, and Vick felt as she had the moment she had walked in – like she wanted to leave, and leave fast. Turning back she called to Akabane, "Try it now!"<p>

She couldn't see Akabane – it was so dark in the All God's Village cemetery that his black attire blended into the gloom. For a moment Vick was inclined to panic that he had abandoned her, but presently he came melting out of the near-darkness and weaved his way in between headstones until he had reached her side. In his hand he held the last of the four pinwheel crests they had spent the last several hours trying to obtain, and Vick breathed a sigh of relief. They were that much closer to escaping the village.

Akabane's attitude toward her had changed drastically since he had confessed to being a Kurosawa – but then, thought Vick, most people warmed up to those who forgave them their shortcomings and regarded them with mutual trust and respect. He had led her unfalteringly through House Kiryu, where ghost-child Akane and her doll-twin Azami had terrorized them from one end of the house to the other, through House Kurosawa, where only Akabane's extensive knowledge of his former home had afforded them the best places to hide from his younger sister Sae, and finally into the cemetery, where they had at last recovered the last crest from a small shrine set up at the foot of a grave marked Tsuchihara. All the while he had guided her to the best of his ability, and had regarded her with cool patience when she grew tired, or frightened.

She glanced up at him. "Back to the tree?"

There was a giant old tree splitting the path in between the Kureha Shrine and the cemetery; Akabane had known before reaching it that the mechanism to open the secret tunnel leading out of the village was located inside the tree, and Vick had seen it with her own eyes. There was a hidden door leading into the tree, and of course Akabane had known where to look.

Akabane nodded. "Once the crests are in place and the mechanism is triggered, the passageway leading from Kureha Shrine to the outside will become accessible."

Vick couldn't help beaming. "We're almost out of here!"

They wound their way between headstones to the small hole in the base of the tree; Vick crawled through the narrow space first, trying not to feel claustrophobic, and straightened up to take a look around. The tree was the largest she had ever seen, and had been hollowed out to serve as the hiding place for the mechanism that controlled the seal over the secret passageway; a small shrine had been set up there that the Ceremony Master used in private, Akabane had explained, and hidden within the shrine were the notches for the crests to complete the pinwheel puzzle. Akabane moved forward, silent as a specter, and extracted the crests from an inside pocket of his floor-length coat. There was a moment or two of eerie quiet as he rearranged the pinwheel crests, a muted _click_, and then a shuddering of air suddenly coursed into the hollow tree.

Akabane glanced over his shoulder at her. "Can you feel that draft? It means the passageway should be open now."

"You know the way?"

He nodded again. "Yes. Follow me – but keep the camera out. After all, Sae knows we are here."

Vick couldn't quite suppress a shudder. She doubted she would forget the terror she had felt while hiding from Akabane's ghostly sister anytime soon.

They squeezed out of the tree and moved swiftly yet stealthily up the winding lane, their footfalls crunching on fallen leaves but the sound muffled by the strange closeness of the air. The fog was thickening by the time they reached the crumbling stone staircase leading up the hill, and sharing a glance they took off up the stairs at a jog. No sense taking it slow when only minutes remained in their hellish surroundings, Vick reasoned.

Halfway up the staircase Vick heard angry voices shouting from behind, and completely on reflex she stopped and turned back. An entire legion of ghostly villagers was sprinting up the stairs after them, brandishing lit torches and pitchforks and all other manner of simple but potentially deadly weapons. Vick glanced over her shoulder to find that Akabane was thirty steps ahead of her, and with a yelp of fear she scurried after him.

Fifteen steps from the top, she tripped.

Vick threw up her arms to protect her face and absorbed the shock of the fall mostly with her elbows and forearms; the impact upon the stone was hard enough that the pain of it made her dizzy and nauseous for a few moments. She rolled over onto her back as soon as she had the presence of mind to do so, and by then it was much too late – the villagers were surrounding her, macabre instruments in hand, staring down at her with their lifeless eyes.

At the top of the stairs Akabane turned back to find the villagers hauling Vick to her feet, and it was apparent even from a distance that her face was swiftly turning ashen again. With each touch her strength ebbed away, until she was barely standing on her feet between them and swaying unevenly on the spot. He called her name and she glanced up at him tiredly, and though the ghosts had plainly heard his voice they neither approached him nor paid him any attention at all. He staggered forward one step, but Vick shook her head firmly once and he stopped dead in his tracks.

"Get out of here, you idiot," she called wearily, forcing the grimmest smile onto her face that he had ever seen. "Don't worry about me."

Then one of the specters prodded her none-too-gently in the back with the sickle it was holding, and Vick had no choice but to allow her captors to lead her away.

Akabane stood rooted to the spot for many long moments, contemplating the place where Vick had vanished into the thickening fog, and then did the only thing he could think to do – he turned and fled into Kureha Shrine, where the secret tunnel out of the village was open and awaiting his passage.

The caulking that had been sealing the door was cracked and irreparable, and the wards that had been keeping all otherworldly forces from breaking the seal appeared to have been burned and were crumbling away; he gave the door an experimental shove and sure enough it creaked open with an explosion of dust that suggested it hadn't been open in many years. The dirt staircase that led downward was only visible down to the third stair; after that the path was completely lightless. He took his first step down.

And then he hesitated.

No one had ever been willing to sacrifice their life in exchange for his own before. The knowledge that, at this precise moment, that was what Vick was trying to do gave him pause. What would make her do such a thing? She owed him nothing. She had wielded the camera against the unspeakable with more than adequate skill, had trusted him to lead them out of the village, had stuck beside him even after he had admitted that he had deceived her from the very start. And yet now she was being taken in his place? But why? For what reason could she possibly –

Comprehension so sudden and dark struck Akabane that he swayed on the spot, bracing his shoulder against the dusty wall for support. The answer to all of these questions was unbelievably obvious – he cursed himself for not seeing the truth before – and he supposed that Vick had known it all along and never let on.

The villagers weren't interested in his presence at all – after all, his ritual had been completed, and had been successful enough to close the hell gate for the next decade or so. Besides, they had no use for someone who had participated in the ritual already. It was a well known fact that one could only appease the hell gate once.

They had wanted Vick from the start. An outsider… a Kusabi.

They meant to sacrifice her.

Akabane squinted down into the depths of the secret passageway, his only means of escape, thinking hard. He had two options – he could do what he had intended to do from the start and leave the village immediately, without a backward glance or a second thought for the girl or her well being. Or he could go back, and do the unthinkable – risk his own life for someone else's.

Abruptly, he remembered the words he had spoken to her when she had released him from his imprisonment within the Kurosawa family library: "I_f there is one thing I absolutely cannot stand, it is being in someone else's debt._"

And he was.

So he turned his back on the secret passageway, shoved the door shut, and took off at a sprint.

* * *

><p>Link was awoken at five o' clock in the morning by a light shining upon his closed left eye. At first he was annoyed – it was the best sleep he had found since being admitted to the hospital – but when he took a moment to get his bearings he settled down. The door to Lucario's private room was ajar – the light slanting across the Hylian's left half was filtering in through the hallway – and Meta Knight was standing in front of him, his tattered wings furled protectively close to his body.<p>

"Meta…?" Link groaned, stretching his aching muscles. He had fallen asleep in the chair beside Lucario's window and was now cramped in places he didn't know could cramp.

"I thought it best to inform you right away," Meta Knight growled, his voice rough as though he had been awoken long before he had been prepared to be awake also. "Shadow is awake, and he seems to be coherent enough for conversation."

Link bolted out of his chair, feeling the last of the vice around his chest loosen and fully release him. "He is?! Did you talk to him?!"

Meta Knight nodded once but did not elaborate; the vice clamped around Link's chest again, with twice the strength of before. The smallest swordsman pitched his voice a little lower, so as not to wake the slumbering Lucario. "There is… a problem."

Link's stomach turned over. "What do you mean? What kind of a problem?"

"I think perhaps you should come and see for yourself," Meta Knight insisted, turning for the door, and pausing to throw another blanket over the shivering Lucario, Link hurried after him. "Marth is there already."

They padded down the hallway, weaving in between doctors, nurses, and pill carts to the ward on the far east side of the hospital where Shadow was being kept under constant surveillance. Marth was waiting for them outside the hedgehog's door, his face an odd mixture of sympathy and barely-contained laughter.

Link was instantly angry. "What is the matter with you?! Meta Knight said there was a problem. What's funny about that?"

Marth bit his bottom lip to keep from laughing and shook his head, holding out one hand to indicate that Link should calm down. "There is a problem… but you need to see it first before you can judge me for laughing." With that he gestured to the door, and feeling slightly confused Link led the way inside.

Shadow was sitting up in bed, cross-legged and holding a child-safe cup filled with water; he sat up even straighter when they walked in, his movements quick and excitable. Machinery still buzzed and whirred all around him as his team of neurologists closely monitored the status and severity of his head trauma, but one glance at the nearest machine told them that things had returned mostly to normal. One of Shadow's doctors was waiting for them, his face taut and grim. "Good morning, gentlemen."

"Morning, gentlemen," Shadow repeated, and he slurped noisily at the water in his cup.

Link glanced at Marth, who was trembling with silent laughing, then at Meta Knight, whose faceplate rendered his face as emotionless as ever, and finally at the lead neurologist, whose brow was furrowed. He looked deeply troubled, so much so that Link asked, "What's the problem? Is it serious?"

Shadow spoke then, and effectively answered Link's question for him. He turned to indicate the ebony quills lining his back and cried, "Look! I'm like a porcupine!" before poking one particularly cruel-looking quill with his index finger to prove his point to them. The resulting sting left the black hedgehog howling in agony.

His doctor sighed and shook his head. "Shadow, I thought I told you not to do that again. It hurt the last time too, remember?"

Shadow stared up at the doctor innocently and said, "It did? Oh. No. I don't remember."

Link stifled a snicker and attempted to address the issue as professionally as he could, but the childlike expression on Shadow's face and the fact that he had just called himself a porcupine made this quite a difficult task. "What can you tell us?"

"The fracture Shadow sustained to his skull appears to have caused some damage to his memory," the doctor explained, his voice grave. "In conversing with him these past several minutes I have determined his condition to be quite severe – he doesn't remember his own name, and has difficulty answering even the simplest of questions. For example – " Shadow's neurologist turned back to the hedgehog, who was clinging to his sippy cup like it was a life preserver, and asked, "Shadow, what is two plus two?"

Shadow glanced up at the man who had spoken, his face a perfect mask of utter confusion, and said, "Um… Yellow?"

Marth and Link couldn't help it – they burst into laughter, the sound of it reverberating off the generic white walls of the hospital room. Shadow's doctor glared daggers at them, and Meta Knight shook his head as though disgusted; for his part, Shadow continued to stare blankly at them as though he couldn't guess why his answer had warranted such a response. The neurologist cleared his throat insistently. "As I was saying – your friend is suffering from acute memory loss. The damage is quite extensive, and there is no way to tell what knowledge he has retained. It appears that the sector of the brain that controls his speech has been damaged too – he has very little control over what he says, or when."

"Kinda like Tourette's?" asked Marth, and when the doctor nodded curtly once Marth and Link burst into another round of laughter.

Ignoring them, Meta Knight turned to Shadow's neurologist. "What can be done?"

The doctor was looking rather put out by their lightheartedness; it was clear he had been expecting them to be doom and gloom upon hearing the news. He sniffed as though disgusting and said, "I will be releasing him after a few hours' worth of exams; I want to gather a little more information on his condition before I allow him to leave, but the rest of his injuries are far from extensive so I am sure he will be able to return home. As for what can be done… he must rest, and avoid too much stress. The fracture will take time to heal, so do not let him engage in too much physical activity."

"But what can be done to improve his amnesia?" Meta Knight pressed, and the doctor sighed.

"Amnesia must run its own course," he told them helplessly. "Do your best to keep him around familiar things, for the more familiar his surroundings, the greater the chance that something around him will trigger a reaction in him strong enough for him to regain his memory. Unfortunately, there is very little I can do for him. The majority of the work will fall to you."

Meta Knight nodded to show that he understood, and turning to the others he said, "We should leave now, and give Shadow the opportunity to relax."

The smallest swordsman was pushing Link and Marth out of the hospital room when Shadow called after them, "Thanks for visiting me! Next time, stay for dinner! I'm making lasagna!"

"Sounds delicious!" snorted Marth, and Meta Knight punched him in the back of the knee.

* * *

><p>True to his word, Falco was striding away from the mansion and toward the thick forest even as the first light of day was coloring the horizon; he was only halfway across the yard when Yami burst out of the sliding glass door and tore after him, clasping his Duel Monsters gauntlet on as he went. Within ten minutes the rest of the household had spilled out into the forest after him – with the exception of Sebastian, who had returned to spying on Wesker and Legato at Wolf's express command.<p>

They reconvened around the in-ground swimming pool at about one in the afternoon, when Kirby came flying outside bearing a tray laden with a mountain of sandwiches in one hand and a pealing telephone in the other. Falco hastened to take the phone from Kirby, whose unusual chirruping language was only understood by Lucario. "Yo."

Link's voice was both tense with concern and constricted with barely-contained laughter. "We have a problem."

Falco collapsed into a poolside chair, throwing one wing theatrically over his eyes. "Dude, no. No more problems. We're long past due for some drunken shenanigans. Whatever happened to the days when the most productive thing we got done was a rousing game of jet-ski jousting?"

A brief pause followed this question, during which Link could be heard murmuring swiftly and quietly to someone in the background, and then Falco distinctly heard Marth's voice when he shouted, "I'm never playing that again!"

"Me neither," agreed Falco appreciatively, knowing full well that Marth couldn't hear. He fished five sandwiches off the plate as Kirby came dancing by and asked, "So what's the problem?"

"It's Shadow. He's awake and responsive, but he has amnesia. His doctor says the memory loss is pretty extensive."

Falco sat up a little straighter – more than one head swiveled his direction in alarm. "Are you shitting me?"

"Totally not shitting you. We went to see him this morning – it's bad."

Falco could hear Marth laughing hysterically in the background but trying to stifle the sound; the feathers on the back of his neck stood up, the way they generally did when he was getting irritated. He chomped through one of Kirby's cute little tea sandwiches in one bite, saying, "You guys trying to make a joke or something? Because this sounds like a prank. If he's got amnesia, why are you laughing?"

Sonic, Silver, and Blaze looked alarmed at the mention of the word "amnesia"; there was a lengthy pause on the other end of the line before Link answered. "You'd be laughing too if you'd just watched that guy call himself a porcupine and stab himself in the hand with his own quill."

Falco snorted into his pink lemonade. Blaze glared at him mutinously. "He really did that?!"

"Dude, Shadow has passed completely beyond the realm of sanity. He's off his fuckin' rocker. I'm telling you, we should strap him to one of those mobile hospital beds and leave him here. He's a total vegetable. He thinks two plus two equals yellow."

This time when he laughed, Falco spat out a mouthful of his drink. Everyone's attention was on him now. "He's pulling your leg, man. Nobody on God's green earth thinks that two plus two equals fucking _yellow!_"

"Well, Shadow does," Link insisted. "He also promised to make us lasagna, so make a note of that."

"Noted. Just how positive are you that this amnesia thing is legit? I mean, come on – two plus two equals yellow? And everybody knows that the only person in this entire house that can cook is Kirby." Kirby chirped at Falco happily, scurrying about with the sandwich tray held over his head with both of his stubby arms.

Link was pacing the length of Lucario's hospital room, his brow furrowed in seriousness now; Lucario, Marth, Pit, and Lance all watched his passing with concerned faces. "I thought it was an act this morning when we got the news, but half an hour ago Shadow's neurologist showed us the CAT-scan results. There are some bizarre things going on in that guys' brain right now – basically he can't remember anything past about five seconds, and you can forget about long-term memory. For all intents and purposes, he's got the mind of a goldfish."

Falco's laughter had ceased by now, too. "What did the doc suggest?"

"He wants to release Shadow to return to the house with us – we'll know in a few hours which of us gets to come home tonight, and who has to stay for a little more TLC. Pit, Lance, and I already got the ok to come home, but Marth's and Fox's evaluations aren't for another hour yet and things aren't looking the best for Lucario and Meta Knight." Link did his best to stifle a small sigh of frustration, but Falco was his oldest and indisputably his best friend and didn't miss the sound.

"You staying if Luca can't leave?" Falco asked, pitching his voice low enough that Mewtwo probably couldn't overhear.

Link cast Lucario a sidelong glance, not at all surprised to find the Pokemon's eyes shadowing his every movement. Maybe things weren't official between the two of them yet – hell, technically Lucario was still seeing Mewtwo – but the nature of their relationship had certainly changed. They hadn't spoken on their mutual attraction since Mewtwo had intruded upon their last private conversation – several days ago, in fact – but they continued to watch one another with telling, protective gazes. Link found that these glances made him feel a little panicky, but a lot flattered – and he would be damned if he messed things up again. "Probably, though Mewtwo would be furious. I could see him storming up to the hospital and demanding an explanation."

Falco eased out of his poolside chair, strolling slowly away from the others as casually as he could manage so as not to seem suspicious. "Or he'd come up there just to kick your ass."

"Assuming that he could," Link retorted, and Falco snickered into the telephone mouthpiece.

"You think you can take him?"

Link ran a hand through his hair, casting yet another overprotective glance at Lucario. The Pokemon had not stopped watching him, and their eyes met; Link made sure he didn't look away when he said, "For Lucario, I could."

Lucario's cheeks darkened with color, and Falco chuckled under his breath. "Dude, you are so smitten. It's a nice change from all the emo bullshit you've been pulling the last few weeks."

Though Link wouldn't have minded talking about Lucario – his stomach was fluttering pleasantly, and he had to admit that he was enjoying himself – he knew that there were other matters infinitely more important that needed discussing. He lowered his voice so as not to alarm the others. "Any sign of Vick?"

Falco blew a helpless sigh. "Nothing new." But then he recalled the conversation he had overheard the night before between Sebastian and Wolf and hastened to say, "Wait, actually, there was something. Remember Wolf's doctor?"

"Tall dark and handsome? Yeah. Vividly."

"He was here last night, and I'll tell you one thing – that guy sure as hell a'int a doctor."

Link's eyes narrowed. "How do you figure?"

"Well, for one thing, Mewtwo saw the guy _materialize_ in the living room. For another, I overheard him and Wolf having a pretty questionable conversation."

"Do tell."

"Something about a village full of Antichrist worshippers and how the guy in the black hat – his name is Akabane, by the way – led Vick there to keep her away from Wesker."

Link shook his head vigorously from side to side, now thoroughly confused. "If this place is so bad, why did that guy take her there at all? And what the hell was Vick thinking, following him into the forest in the middle of the night?! If anything happens to her – "

"I know, buddy," Falco cut in, sounding just as helpless as Link felt. "I know."

"So you're saying that Wolf didn't sound surprised by any of this?"

Falco turned back to face the others; Wolf was sitting poolside next to Midna, their legs dangling into the water and their conversation amicable enough. The avian narrowed his eyes with suspicion. "Not really… he pretty much agreed with everything that guy said, now that I think about it. Although I have to say, Wolf has been acting a little different ever since his miraculous recovery."

"How do you mean?"

"I mean he waltzes around here acting like he could take a rocket launcher to the chest and walk away completely unfazed. And that guy, the one that pretended to be his doctor…" Falco glanced all around for a sign, the feathers on the back of his neck standing on end again. "He's been reporting directly to Wolf like… I don't know, like Wolf is the one calling the shots or something."

Link considered what Falco was telling him, taking note of the fact that Falco sounded rather uncomfortable – this, he knew, was the greatest indicator that something wasn't on the up and up. Falco was one of the most adaptable guys he had ever known; if Falco was having trouble accepting something in Brawlers Mansion, it was soon to become a problem for all of them. "I'll be home later today to help you out with this, okay? We'll get it figured out. In the meantime, keep Wolf in your sights as often as you can. If he takes off for any reason, do your best to tail him and find out what he's up to."

"You got it." Falco turned back and slowly meandered in the direction of the pool again. "I'll let everybody here know what's going down. You wanna help me look for Vick again when you get home?"

Link nodded earnestly. "Absolutely. We'll start first thing."

"Great. Get your ass home – I need ya. Peace out."

"Same to you." Link disconnected, and Falco arrived at the pool area just in time to click the power off and set the handset upon a plastic end table. Looking up he noticed right away that everyone's eyes were upon him, and with a sigh and a ruffle of his feathers he launched into the news about Shadow's condition.

* * *

><p>Vick cursed herself all the way to House Kurosawa, which appeared to be the destination of her entire ghostly entourage – she had dropped the Camera Obscura on the stairs leading up to the Kuze Shrine, and now had no hope of fighting off her captors. She had no choice but to allow herself to be led through the village and into the heart of House Kurosawa, where she witnessed horrors she had not seen before.<p>

She was taken through an atrium filled with dark trees that swayed in the wind and into a small circular chamber that she knew she would likely not be leaving alive.

It was really quite simple – looking up in the center of the room she could see multiple winch systems built into the sides of the walls, all aiming toward the precise center point. Glancing around she noticed several veiled priests moving forward with great lengths of rope in their arms. It didn't take a genius to guess what they had in store for her – once she was bound in ropes she would be hoisted up into the air by the winch systems, and these would tighten until she had suffocated, or until her bones were all broken.

"Not the most pleasant way to go," Vick murmured beneath her breath, and she briefly considered fighting back her would-be killers but remembered for the second time that her only means of defense had been lost.

Vick stood rooted to the spot with terror as she was bound ankles to shoulders with the thick ropes, her heart thudding so wildly against her ribs that she could feel its pulse pushing uselessly against the ropes that constricted her chest. There were seven winches in all – one priest manned each one, watching her with their lifeless eyes, seemingly waiting for something… or perhaps they were merely enjoying the sight of her suffering. When she could take no more of their haunting glances, and thought for certain that her thudding heart would burst from her chest, the door creaked open again and heralded the entrance of two more ghosts.

Ryokan Kurosawa, the Ceremony Master and Akabane's father, made not a whisper of sound in his floor length robes, his face completely covered in an ornate bird mask. At his side walked the diminutive Sae Kurosawa, Akabane's little sister, her face split into a malicious grin and her white kimono stained with the blood of dozens of deceased villagers.

Sae stuck her face right up to Vick's, and though Vick knew her time to live was short she felt her lips curl back in rage as she growled, "How many of them did you kill? How many were your friends? How many were _family?!_" And then, when Sae exploded into terrifying laughter, Vick roared, "I'll be happy to die just so I can keep Akabane away from you, you bitch!"

The Ceremony Master swung his arm, and Vick flinched back – it wasn't until she heard the creaking of the heavy old winches in use that she realized he had been signaling the priests to begin their task. With a pale face and silver eyes wide with fear Vick watched helplessly as the slack was drawn out of the ropes that bound her, watched as she was lifted slowly off the ground and into the air – The ropes grew more taut around her body, making breathing difficult, making her pulse pound in her ears until it was all she could hear; Vick's lungs burned with the strain of drawing breath, and she screamed when one of her shoulders snapped and a wave of agony unlike anything she had ever known swept through her body.

Somewhere in the little perception she still possessed Vick felt a disturbance in the air, heard the sound of multiple blades slicing through some manner of material, and though Vick couldn't force her eyes open she sensed that suddenly she was falling. Was this death? Was this the feeling of plummeting past all things tangible, into the afterlife that awaited her? Dimly she perceived the moment when the falling ceased, for she felt that she had landed in a pair of strong, waiting arms. And despite the fact that she knew not who had saved her, could not fathom anything other than the excruciating pain of her inverted arm, she felt an undeniable sense of peace and safety.

Her eyes cracked open a fraction, and Akabane's fierce face swam in her bleary eyesight.

Akabane gritted his teeth and shifted Vick's insubstantial weight until he was supporting her with just one arm, and in his free hand he raised the Camera Obscura and fired a shot. Two priests crossed in front of the lens at once, and the force of the photo was strong enough to reduce both of them into a swirling silver mist. The other priests fled, and while Akabane was sighting Sae in the lens the Ceremony Master thrust out one hand and seized Akabane's shoulder.

The unearthly cold that spread through Akabane's body would have stopped a lesser man, but Akabane shrugged the chill and fatigue out of his muscles and whirled to face Ryokan Kurosawa. Sae's frail, translucent hand stretched out and pressed into the small of Akabane's back and he lurched forward, his teeth chattering in his skull, and he swore to himself that he would _drop the fucking camera_ and risk losing the goddamned thing forever before he would allow Vick to fall from his arm.

The cold induced by Sae's touch was too unbearable for him to endure; Akabane swooned forward, fading in and out of consciousness, and when he became coherent several seconds later it was to find that the camera was lying a few inches from his hand, and Vick's dainty weight had been removed from his arm. The protective, guttural snarl that erupted from his throat was foreign to him, but the sound jarred him from his stupor and his fingers clawed at the camera until he felt its protective casing against the palm of his hand. His lifted himself up and raised the camera to his eye, one finger upon the shutter button, the Ceremony Master filling the lens –

The photo blasted Ryokan Kurosawa into a cloud of dust.

Akabane urged his chilled and trembling body back to its feet, just in time to see Sae Kurosawa drag a half-conscious Vick Ralis through the door furthest from him. He stood frozen for a half-second, staring at the closed door in horror – beyond that doorway was the pathway that led down to the hellish abyss, where the gateway to hell lurked beneath the foundation of the village.

He tore after them, the camera clenched in the fingers of his right hand, desperate now.

The path led down some rickety stairs and onto a dirt pathway; the tunnel Akabane sprinted down smelled of old, disturbed earth and long-rotted bodies. Dozens of Mourners lined the hall on both sides, their sightless eyes rolling and their hands groping as he tore past, but their fingers only trailed along the hem of his floor length coat and they weren't quick enough to keep pace with him. As he ran he could hear Vick screaming senselessly in the darkness somewhere ahead of him as though she were just barely clinging to life, followed by the abhorred shrieking of Sae's crazed laughter.

The tunnel opened up into an underground chamber filled with hundreds of lit candles, in the center of which stood a small dias that Akabane recognized with a jolt of guilt. Though he wanted to pause and reflect, he didn't allow himself to even slow his stride: this was the place where a twin sacrificed his or her other half, the very place where Akabane had killed his own brother so many years ago.

The chamber was otherwise empty; Vick's screams echoed up from the stairs directly north of him. Akabane barreled past the candles and flew down the stairs, his heart thudding in his chest but his breathing perfectly controlled. At the bottom of the stairs he stopped dead in his tracks – Sae had Vick on her knees by the hair, just inches from the bottomless chasm that was the gateway to hell.

Akabane spread his arms. "This isn't the way. You know this will solve nothing. You will kill her and the cycle will not stop. It didn't stop with me. It didn't stop with you. And it will continue long after you have disposed of her."

Sae watched him with dark, unforgiving eyes, and gave a sharp yank on Vick's hair. Vick cried out weakly; Akabane's eyes flashed at the sound. The intangible muscles in Sae's translucent arm tightened.

"Don't," growled Akabane, suddenly very afraid.

Sae snapped her arm, throwing Vick backward, over the dirt edge and into the hellish abyss.

Akabane howled and leapt forward, lifting the camera up into a ready position and sighting his sister with the lens; she blurred out of his sight and appeared a few feet away, one hand outstretched to seize his arm and impart the devastating chill of her touch. He strafed to one side and snapped a picture, forcing Sae to stumble in her attack, and he clicked the shutter button again and again until she was forced to vanish from sight again. He managed two steps toward the chasm in front of him, his eyes fixed upon the edge, but Sae appeared directly in front of him and laid both hands upon his chest.

It was as though he had fallen into a pool of frozen water; it was cold so absolute that Akabane swore he was being stabbed with millions of tiny needles. He was breathless with pain, the camera shaking in his frozen fingertips, and though he couldn't summon the strength to raise the camera into place he pressed his finger down upon the shutter button anyway.

The flash went off and the photo blasted Sae away from him, and Akabane drew in a gulp of air desperately, feeling as though he had nearly drowned. With the last of his strength he snapped one last picture, blasting Sae backward just far enough to send her careening over the edge and down into the hellish abyss.

Akabane surged forward, praying that he wasn't too late.

Vick's single working arm clung to the edge of the chasm, her other arm hanging uselessly at her side; in the instant that her strength failed her and her fingers slipped from the ledge Akabane was there, seizing her hand in his own and holding her fast. She gazed up at him, tears streaming from her eyes –

"Don't look down!" he bellowed. "Stay focused on me! Look at my face! Look into my eyes!"

She watched him almost imperceptibly, her fingers slackening in his grasp, and he felt his own eyes soften.

"Vick… you have to stay with me."

A smile flitted briefly onto her lips, and flexing her fingers Vick held on. Her voice was a hoarse whisper that he may or may not have imagined hearing. "I will. I trust you, Akabane."

An awe-inspiring strength surged through Akabane's arm and he heaved her out of the chasm and up into his arms; she curled into his chest like a small child who had just awoken from a nightmare, sobbing senselessly into the front of his coat, and Akabane found that he didn't care at all.

Vick had no memory of leaving the cavern where the hell gate insidiously dwelled; she came around just in time to see Akabane shoulder open some talisman-covered door in a place she did not recognize, and then pain dragged her back into the darkness of unconsciousness.

* * *

><p>From somewhere not so far away, a nightingale was singing the most hauntingly beautiful song her ears had ever heard; the sound of it stirred her back into a state of semi-consciousness, not because the song was so lovely but rather because she knew that birds didn't sing in the hellish village she had been trapped in. Birds only sang on the outside.<p>

Vick opened her eyes to find a canopy of jade leaves overhead, mostly blocking but not quite fully concealing the sunlight that seeped through the crevices between leaves. The sunlight dappled the ground with golden light and Vick inhaled, relishing the smell of the deep parts of the woods. Somehow rejuvenated by the scent of wood and dirt and sunshine, Vick turned her head.

Akabane was seated at her side, watching her with an impassive expression upon his face. She was so relieved to see him that the urge to embrace him was impossible to resist, and so she lurched upward and flung her arms around his neck. She felt his shoulders bob with silent laughter, and found that she wasn't surprised when he didn't return the embrace.

She eased herself back down, dizzy with the pain in her shoulder. "Where are we?"

"The forest," Akabane answered softly, "not far from where you live. I brought you here while you were unconscious. I could think of no place better to take you."

"No," she said reassuringly, and instantly felt foolish for reassuring Akabane, of all people. "This is perfect. They must be so worried…" Vick glanced at her shoulder, noticing with a start that not only did it look normal, but it had been bound up primitively yet securely. "My shoulder?"

"Dislocated. I set it not long ago. Leave the supports in place until you have received proper medical attention."

Something about his voice made Vick chuckle, and in response to the glare he cast her way she giggled, "How can you be so serious at a time like this? We made it out! We're finally safe! Don't you have anything else to say?"

Akabane hesitated, considering, and finally admitted, "You are… very brave. I have seen others die in the Rope Temple after suffering far less. You are very fortunate to be alive."

"Fortunate that you came back to rescue me, you mean," Vick corrected with a wink, and a rather sadistic smirk crossed Akabane's face. "Speaking of which, why did you come back?"

"I told you before," Akabane reminded, his voice hard, "I can't stand being in anyone's debt. You released me from the Kurosawa library. I had to find some way to repay you."

Vick sat up, wincing but looking determined, and fixed him with her most serious gaze. Her eyes looked like dark emeralds in the strange light shimmering through the rich trees, and Akabane found that he could not look away. "I hate to break it to you, but you paid me back for that thirty seconds later when you used the camera to zap that Mourner. That thing had me half-dead, remember? If you hadn't done what you did, I wouldn't have made it. So… you didn't owe me. You came back because you wanted to."

Akabane stared deep into her eyes, the intensity of his gaze making her tremble with terror, and said absolutely nothing.

Vick wisely changed the subject. "So… home is that way?" She nodded her head to indicate a point in the line of trees where the light seemed substantially brighter, and Akabane followed her gaze. It was a point perhaps fifty feet away, and between the trunks of the trees a well-kept lawn was visible. She wasn't certain, but Vick thought she could even hear voices.

"Yes," said Akabane, rising suddenly to his feet; Vick scrambled up also, though she wasn't nearly as quick to rise and winced with even the most insignificant movements. "You'll understand if we part ways here."

Of all the things she had expected him to say, this was certainly not one of them. Vick turned sharply to face Akabane to find him watching her almost defiantly, as though prepared for her protests. She opted for the direct approach. "Bullshit I'll understand. What do you mean, 'part ways here'?"

"You must know that I can't come with you," Akabane explained slowly, as though he were addressing a child.

"And why the hell not?" Vick demanded hotly, and Akabane's answer floored her.

"Do you truly think that any of your friends would be _happy_ to see me? That they would accept your outlandish tales of our trials in All God's Village as the uncontested truth and welcome me with open arms?" Akabane sighed. "Really, your naivety is astounding. Your friends do not know anything of me but that I opposed your adversaries once, and that I apprehended you and left you on the roof of a church. They would blame me for your disappearance, and your condition. They would take one look at me and draw their weapons."

"Because _that_ would really concern _you_," Vick scoffed, rolling her eyes toward the jade canopy overhead. "Like you wouldn't be able to beat the shit out of all of them. At once."

Akabane's face twisted strangely when he said, "I would do my best to avoid doing that. For you."

Vick was nearly overwhelmed with the urge to approach him and take him in her arms, but somehow she managed to suppress it. She tried to find the words to say just how much his words had touched her, but no words would come. Instead she settled for saying, "I'll tell them the truth – about how you led me to the village to keep me from Wesker. How you came back and rescued me from the Rope Temple. How you… saved my life. I'll tell them everything… just don't leave me. I'm not ready to say goodbye."

That was when Akabane turned fully to face her, and Vick knew that their time together was drawing swiftly to a close. "You will say nothing. You will turn around and walk out of these woods, and back to the life you left behind. And when Albert Wesker and Legato Bluesummers show their faces here again – and make no mistake, they will – you can rest assured that that is when you will see me again."

"You promise?" Vick whispered, her eyes overbright. "You'll be here?"

"I'll be here – standing between you and them." Akabane nodded in her direction, toward the point over her shoulder where the trees thinned and the sunlight grew brighter. "Now go."

Vick turned her back on him and set off walking, picking her way cautiously through the underbrush, careful not to lose her footing and extra careful not to look back for fear that seeing his face would weaken her resolve. When she reached the end of the tree line she burst out of the forest and into the golden sunshine with a radiant grin on her face, basking in the warmth of the sun and the newfound sense of safety and security. So blinded by the sun she walked unsteadily forward, feeling her feet carry her where she wanted to go, feeling her body go weak with exhaustion and relief.

She had taken twenty steps before the first voice called her name – uncertainly, as though whoever had said it wasn't altogether convinced their eyes weren't playing tricks on them. And then the call was repeated, over and over, until uncertainty became excitement and suspicion became love.

"Is that…?"

"You guys, does anybody else see…?"

"It's HER! Vick?! Is that really you?!"

"Vick!"

"VICK!"

_Victoria!_ This cry she recognized even though she could not yet see, and Vick stumbled forward deliriously on shaky legs; she flailed about for a moment longer, her arms outstretched and desperate, and then she fell forward into a pair of arms that she knew all too well. The arms encircled her, imparting an overwhelming sense of security, and she sank down to the ground feeling as though the world had abruptly knitted itself back together.

The arms that held her tightened and shook violently – their owner was sobbing, repeating her name over and over, the sound of it saturated with relief and gratefulness and love. And then the other voices reached her, all trembling with emotion, hands stroking her hair, her face, her arms, anything they could reach in their desperation to be near her.

_I'm home,_ Vick thought happily, and she sank quite willingly back into unconsciousness.


	20. The One Where They Play Truth or Dare

The atmosphere within Brawlers Mansion the following afternoon was one of hushed impatience; Yami rounded the corner leading down the hallway to Vick's room to find Falco standing outside the bartender's door like some stern-faced watchdog. The King of Games chuckled beneath his breath, hardly surprised. "Any word?"

The avian shook his head tersely; he looked very on edge. "Pit was in a little while ago to give her a checkup – he said one of her shoulders is bruised and seems tender, like it was dislocated and then reset. She's covered in scrapes and bruises and Pit's pretty sure she's dehydrated, but other than that Vicks seems fine so far." Seeing that Yami was prepared to ask another question, Falco finished hurriedly, "She's still sleeping, so nobody knows where she's been or what happened to her."

"Is anyone keeping watch?" Yami asked, and Falco chuckled.

"You kidding? I don't think Luca has let go of her hand since the moment she collapsed on him, and we I can't pry Link away from her either. Wolf has been in and out – I saw him chatting with tall dark and creepy not too long ago." Falco ruffled his feathers in irritation and preened absentmindedly at his shoulder. Yami smiled a little nervously and a little fondly. "You just coming to check on her?"

"No." Yami stepped closer and leaned back against the wall, only a few inches away from Falco. The avian watched the King of Games out of the corner of his eye, one eyebrow slightly raised. "Toshi called again, looking for Lucario and Vick – "

"Tell him to quit calling," Falco snapped, rolling his eyes. "Tell him the minute we know something, he'll know something. I know he's freaking out because he's getting complaints because the music at The Shadow _sucks_ without Vick and Lucario, but he needs to calm his shit down or I'm gonna uppercut his punkass."

"Fair enough." Yami looked suddenly distressed, and he lowered his voice when he stammered, "Um… It also sounds like several of our number are leaving us within the next twenty four hours. Silver thinks it would be best if he took Shadow back to Mobius, so that Shadow can be surrounded by familiar things to help speed along his recovery… also, Lance has mentioned that he is needed back in Johto. I asked him what could possibly be so pressing as to force him away from Vick at this time, but he was mum on the details."

Falco frowned heavily down at Yami, considering this. It seemed uncharacteristic of Lance to cut and run; after all, he had made it almost painfully obvious that he was interested in seeing Vick as much more than just a friend. For him to decide he was leaving so suddenly… the decision in itself was quite suspicious. "Huh. That's more than a little bizarre…"

"There's more. Pit is moving out of the house and moving into the Comet Observatory with Rosalina." Yami sighed and even laid his head up against Falco's upper arm – the avian stood head and shoulders taller than him. Falco stared dumbly at the top of Yami's head for several long moments before shrugging and resting his head on top of Yami's. "This isn't good, is it?"

"It's really not," Falco mumbled into Yami's shock of crimson-streaked golden hair. "With Wesker and Legato still running around out there, it's a terrible idea for us to divide. Lance has some unusual skills that we could use to our advantage, not to mention that when Shadow and Silver take off Wesker will only have Sonic to contend with for speed. And now Pit's going? Shit, he's practically our medic, now we'll pretty much be living at the hospital. I wonder if we can convince them to give us frequent customer rates or something."

Yami chuckled, but the sound was forced and subdued. "Vick will need extra protection. The moment Wesker catches wind of the fact that she's alive, and she's back here…" He let the sentence die on its own; he didn't want to voice the words and Falco certainly didn't want to hear them, but there was one more question that morbid curiosity drove him to ask. "What does he want with her?"

The helpless frustration in Yami's voice prompted Falco to lift an arm and run his fingers through Yami's hair absentmindedly, his own face contorted with agitation. "Near as I can tell, he has some sort of physical obsession with her. I hate to say it, but it looks like Vick's numerous sexual talents haven't paid off in a good way for her this time. As long as he's alive and she's with us, she'll be in danger."

"I'll die before I'll let anything happen to her," Yami growled passionately.

Falco nodded in agreement; the movement set Yami's golden spikes brushing through the handsome azure feathers of the avian's face. The sensation was not an unpleasant one. "I know – me too. Same with everybody else here."

There followed a pause during which Yami inwardly floundered for a change of topic, and then he said, "About the modeling thing…"

"We'll go tomorrow," Falco interrupted. "I want to make sure she's okay first, and I know you do too. Plus now Marth is home, so he can go with us."

All of the brawlers who had been confined to the hospital had at last been released; Meta Knight and Marth had come home that morning, the latter with the card of a renown physical therapist in his hand and sour grumblings emitting from behind his faceplate. Shadow would be arriving in an hour or so; Silver and Sonic were taking it upon themselves to return to the hospital and escort him home.

Wolf's "doctor" was no longer pretending to be a doctor; he had stepped forward just after Marth and Meta Knight had returned home and introduced himself as Sebastian. He had referred to himself as a "butler", but many among them questioned the truth of this claim just as much as they questioned the validity of his second statement – that he would prove himself to be a useful ally, and that Wesker and Legato would do well to fear him in the months to come. Though Sebastian had come clean about his motives and intentions, Wolf's mouth continued to stay shut – he insisted that his miraculous recovery from the brink of death to perfect health was a gift from the powers that be, and he showed no signs of admitting that his sudden tie to Sebastian had anything to do with it at all.

And now several among them were removing themselves from Brawlers Mansion and departing for other locations – weakening their strength as a collective group.

Falco was suddenly struck with a feeling of claustrophobia, and the sense that he needed to escape the mansion if only for a few hours. As much as he wanted to leave the house and let loose, he knew it would be better for all of them if he stayed put for at least the next few days. Their numbers were already dwindling, and their enemies were out of sight but certainly not out of mind. It simply wouldn't do to weaken their forces any more just for a few hours' worth of frivolity. Instead he suggested, "I'm gonna drink tonight. We'll have to set up a game or something. You down?"

Yami cracked a small smile. "Sounds great. I'll be there."

"Good deal." Falco glanced sidelong at the closed door next to him. "Man… I sure hope Vick is okay."

* * *

><p>Vick awoke to a mild headache, a dull throb in her injured shoulder, a familiar warm hand clasping her own and a shower of sunlight seeping through her bedroom curtains. She blinked her eyes blearily, turned her head, and came face to face with Lucario.<p>

"Oh!" she exclaimed, tears brimming in her eyes, and surging upward from her mattress she flung her arms around his neck and sobbed into his narrow chest. Lucario held her tightly, his hands roving affectionately across her back and his nose buried in her hair. Standing over them, Link ruffled Vick's disheveled hair lovingly with one hand as she cried. "Am I home? Did I really make it?"

_You're really here,_ Lucario promised, his voice saturated with emotion. _You're alright. Everything is fine now._ And then, as though he couldn't help himself, he added, _My God I've missed you. I love you, Victoria._

"I missed you too, and I love you something ridiculous." Then, almost as an afterthought, she added, "And it's Vick." She pulled herself away quickly, as though struck by a bolt of lightning, but there was reluctance in her eyes. "What happened to everyone? Is everybody – "

_Everyone is fine. We were all in the hospital for many days, but the damage is not lasting… for the most part._

There was a hesitation in Lucario's eyes that did not bode well with Vick; cocking her head to one side she narrowed her eyes and asked, "What do you mean, 'for the most part'?"

Link was the one who answered; he heaved a sigh and squeezed Vick's shoulder. "Well… Meta Knight will be in physical therapy for awhile on account of his wings being barely functional, but the doctors that worked with him in the hospital were pretty optimistic that he would recover as long as he did exactly what the therapist tells him. Also, Shadow is coming home today with acute memory loss. He can't retain information for longer than five seconds, and his long term memory is practically nonexistent."

_Though Sonic did mention that Shadow has always struggled with long term memory problems, _Lucario added. _Apparently there are large portions of his past that he has simply… forgotten. Perhaps repressed. Whatever the terminology, Shadow's mind, though clearly brilliant, is faulty._

"And everybody else?" Vick demanded, and Link couldn't help but laugh.

"No lasting damage otherwise," he reassured her, ruffling her hair playfully again. "Lucario gets tired easily and some of us will have scars, but that's all." As he finished, though, Link's eyes narrowed almost angrily and he gritted out, "Oh, and some of us inherited creepy butlers with unknown origin, but that's an everyday sort of thing, isn't it?"

_Let it go, Link_, Lucario warned, but Vick had latched onto the comment immediately.

"Who's got a creepy butler?"

Lucario's head fell into his hands and he heaved a sigh. _Wolf does. You should also know that while he was in the hospital, Wolf flat-lined. For all intents and purposes, he… died._

"WHAT?!"

_He sustained a bullet wound that grazed his heart, and the damage was irreparable. The internal blood loss was simply too severe for Wolf's body to handle, and he passed away… at least, that is what many of us maintain behind his back. He claims that he has no explanation for his miraculous recovery and that some higher power must be responsible for what happened, but ever since he awoke in the hospital we have been contending with this "butler" of his._ Lucario shuddered delicately; Link circled until he was standing behind the Pokemon and started massaging the narrow shoulders gently. _Don't misunderstand me – Sebastian has done nothing toward any of us that could even be considered hostile. He is a perfect gentleman and has gone out of his way, in my opinion, to be as non-threatening as possible. However…_ Lucario spread his hands as though asking to be forgiven for his opinion. _The feeling that something is amiss still lingers._

Vick was glancing back and forth between the two of them with comprehension in her eyes; she clapped her hands together somewhat gleefully and exclaimed, "Is there something going on with you two?!"

Their response wasn't quite what she had hoped for; Link instantly dropped his hands from Lucario's shoulders, looking avidly jealous, and Lucario's face darkened with blush and guilt shone in his eyes. Perhaps as a way of distracting her from the questions that would follow these reactions Lucario said, _Victoria… we need to know what happened to you. Where have you been? We have been searching for days._

"Sonic found your footprints in the woods," Link added, his eyebrows furrowed. "I've seen them, and at a certain point they just… vanish. Shit like that doesn't just happen, you know."

Vick leaned forward earnestly, all too happy to share her story. "Wesker was right on my heels… I couldn't run any faster, and I knew he was going to catch me. I heard something in the trees above me that sounded like a person moving, so I followed the sound. That was how I found myself in the village."

"Village?" Link inquired.

"Yeah... the woods opened up into a clearing that overlooked an old-style Japanese village – All God's Village, I guess it's called. Anyway, the whole village is completely devoid of life except there are ghosts everywhere, and I found this camera that exorcises malicious spirits and used it to fight my way out. But I didn't know where I was going so it was good I ran into Akabane, because without him I would still be stuck in that godforsaken hell hole. I ran through dark hallways and dodged blind ghosts and collected crests for pinwheel puzzles and dropped my goddamned camera and was kidnapped and almost sacrificed just to keep a gate to hell closed, but Akabane saved me! And he carried me out and…" Vick looked around, taking in her bedroom with a fond smile before finishing lamely, "Here I am."

Since Vick had lived through these horrific events very recently, this explanation made perfect sense to her; to Link and Lucario, who had been expecting to hear almost anything, this explanation made them question Vick's mental health.

_Alright,_ Lucario began slowly, digesting all Vick had said with a perfectly baffled expression on his face, and when he next looked at Vick his eyes were filled with sympathy. _Victoria… ghosts don't exist._

Vick's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Bullshit they don't. They almost killed me, like, four times. They froze me to death. They tied me up and suffocated me and dislocated my fucking shoulder."

_So… that's how your shoulder was injured?_ Lucario questioned, and while it was clear he was doing his absolute best to understand his voice still held a note of skepticism.

"Yeah." Vick rubbed her shoulder gingerly, wincing as she did so, her gaze far away as she remembered. "What's with you guys? Didn't you hear me? I said I was almost _killed._ And I would have been if Akabane hadn't rescued me."

"And… who exactly is Akabane?" Link pressed.

"Come on – the guy in the black hat, remember? From The Shadow that time when Wesker and Legato attacked me in the alley? The guy who left me on top of that church?"

"And that's who you've been with this entire time?" questioned Link, and he ran a hand through his hair looking frustrated. "Vick, honey… did he hurt you? Did he take you somewhere and hold you there against your will?"

Vick was already feeling positively scandalized by their careful treatment of her, and was only barely tolerating their glances that suggested she should be placed in a mental institution; for them to question the man who had risked everything to save her was a capital offense in her mind. She threw the blankets back and leapt up from her bed, glaring at Link when she shrieked, "_No,_ he most certainly did not! What's the matter with you two?! Haven't you heard a word I've said?! He _saved_ me, he _saved my life_ in that place! If he hadn't led me there, Wesker would have gotten me! If he hadn't stuck by me, I'd be lost or captured or probably _dead_! Doesn't any of that matter to you?!"

Lucario winced, looking apologetic but still somehow unrepentant; he rose from where he sat on the edge of her mattress and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly to him. _Of course that matters to us – your safety is all that we had wished for, and we are all very thankful that you have returned, and that you are well. But Victoria… we are terribly concerned for you._

"And that's fine – I've been giving myself ulcers wondering if you guys were even alive," Vick admitted. "But here I am telling you the absolute truth and you look like you don't believe a word of it."

Link knew that he would have to voice their concerns; Lucario was just too attached to Vick to ever risk bringing her any kind of unhappiness. "Vick, your story doesn't match up. We followed your footprints into the woods numerous times, and they just vanish. There's nothing out there but trees and insects – there's no village, and no ghosts. As for the camera – " Link turned and picked something up off the chest-of-drawers and held it out for her to examine; with a jolt of surprise she recognized the Camera Obscura, and she snatched it out of his hand as though it were a precious heirloom of hers. "This thing doesn't even work; you press the shutter button and nothing happens. No flash, no picture. As for the film loaded in it… well, see for yourself."

Vick pried the aged casing from the back of the camera and practically tore the roll of undeveloped film out; she caught a brief glimpse of gray, indiscernible images before the negatives crumbled into ash in her fingers. Abruptly she burst into tears, slumping against Lucario as she cried, and Lucario gazed helplessly at Link as though wordlessly begging him for advice. All the while Link shook his head, unsure of what to say.

"You have to believe me," she whimpered, pulling her head away from Lucario's shoulder and regarding him beseechingly through tear-filled eyes. "The village is real… I was there, I saw it all with my own eyes…"

_It's alright now,_ Lucario promised, his voice echoing in her mind in soothing tones, but that was all he could bring himself to say. Vick tore herself free from his arms and flung herself back down upon her bed, glaring at them, her eyes stinging with hurt.

"Go away!" she shouted, tears spilling from the corners of her eyes again. "Get the hell away from me! You call yourselves my friends, but… you don't believe a single word I've said!"

Lucario's eyes stung, and his stomach contracted with guilt. _Victoria, that isn't – _

But Link had seized Lucario by the arm and was tugging him gently but insistently toward the door. "We'll be back later to check on you… sorry, Vick. Really."

The door closed behind them as they let themselves out; Vick buried her face in a pillow, thought of Akabane, and cried.

* * *

><p>They saw Lance off a few hours after that, promising to send letters and to come and visit him in Johto when things calmed down at the mansion; Sonic and Silver brought Shadow home just before dinnertime, and though the others begged them to stay Silver was adamant about starting their journey right away.<p>

"Thanks for the hospitality," said Silver with a sad little smile. "And for the good fight – despite the fact that we got owned, I had a blast. And I'd really love to stay, but…" He had glanced over at Shadow then, his face optimistic but still melancholy, and had waved goodbye without another word. Pit had exited five minutes later with a small bag slung over his shoulder, promising to visit often, and though they were all happy for the progression in his relationship with Rosalina they couldn't help feeling a little sad to see him go.

Fully expecting dinnertime to be a rather despairing affair with the loss of four of their companions and Vick shut steadfastly in her room, Falco took matters into his own hands; while Blaze and Kirby were off on the Dragoon picking up a few pizzas he was dragging spare chairs and bean bags into the living room in the shape of a circle, and Yami was setting up a folding table with plastic cups and various bottles of alcoholic beverages. Marth was the first to stumble across them at their work. "Open bar?"

"Well of course," Falco told him with a wink, "but there's a catch."

Marth practically slapped himself in the face. "There's always a catch." Just as Sonic, Lucario, Mewtwo, and Meta Knight were coming upstairs he added, "Okay, what's the catch?"

Falco poured out six shots of vodka – Meta Knight had never been known to drink with any of them – and flashed a grin, saying "We're playing Truth or Dare. I just figured it would be a nice change of pace; after all, we've all been moping around since we landed in the hospital, haven't we? And the way I see it – " The avian paused to drain his shot glass, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. " – We actually have way more to celebrate than we have to be down about. I mean, come on – we all lived through that royal ass kicking, and we found Vick today. Don't you guys think we should feel pretty good about all of that?"

Sonic couldn't suppress a tiny sigh. "But what if Shadow never remembers…?"

Falco prompted the azure hedgehog to down his shot – Sonic needed very little prompting. "Look at it this way, Sonic – he's alive. We're all really fortunate. Any one of us could be worm food by now."

Lucario wrinkled his nose in disgust. _Very eloquently spoken._

"Just calling it like it is. You guys wanna play or not?"

By then most of the remaining household had traipsed into the sitting room and were studying the scene with curious expressions on their faces; the front door opened and Blaze and Kirby wandered in, burdened with boxes of steaming pizza, and as Link and Yami hastened to help them stack the boxes upon the folding table Marth whined, "Isn't Truth or Dare a game for high schoolers, man? Sounds kinda lame…"

Everyone was digging into the pizza when Falco said, "I thought someone would bring that up… that's why I spiced up the rules a little."

"Okay," said Sonic, who was already halfway through scarfing down his first slice of pepperoni pizza. "I'll bite. What are these snazzy new rules of yours?"

Falco pointed to the middle of the circle, where a hat was flopped over on its side; Kirby chattered excitedly and pointed, recognizing the hat as his own magician's hat from his room. Falco chuckled a little guiltily, saying, "Yeah, I stole your hat, I'm sorry." Kirby bounced up into Falco's arms and nuzzled him reassuringly, prompting Falco to continue, "I stuffed the hat with slips of paper that say either 'truth' or 'dare' on them – "

"Very original, Einstein," snorted Link, and several of the others chuckled.

"I'm not finished!" exclaimed Falco. "We go around the circle, and you draw a slip from the hat on your turn. You show the slip to us, and we either ask you a question that you have to answer, or we give you a dare that you have to do. No questions asked."

The room was suddenly very quiet; several among them looked like their lives were about to end.

"There's one more catch!" Falco continued, doing his best to stifle his laughter. "If you're really opposed to a question or a dare or whatever, you can opt out – "

_I have a feeling I'll be opting out a lot,_ Lucario put in smoothly, looking nervous and embarrassed.

" – But only if you drink a shot made by whoever asked you the question," Falco finished smugly, "or gave you the dare."

The profound silence within the living room was reminiscent of an unoccupied tomb.

"This is suicide!" Marth exclaimed, throwing up his hands in defeat and looking slightly panicked. "Are you kidding me with these rules?! We'll either be completely humiliated – "

" – Or completely wasted," Midna finished for him, and she ended with a rather wicked-sounding cackle. "I'm game. I've got nothing to hide."

"Bullshit, princess," spat Link. "I know a few secrets about you that would make these guys' toes curl. I'm down. Let's play."

Falco grinned as if he was thrilled. "You guys all in?"

Kirby shook his head – not surprising, seeing as how the language barrier kept him from participating in any sort of activity that involved conversation – but everyone else nodded along with various expressions of dread and excitement on their faces. They seated themselves in the circle Falco had set up for them with their paper plates of pizza in their laps; several of them had mixed drinks or taken beers from the refrigerator as well, and Marth picked up the magician's hat.

"Alright! Who's first?"

Blaze surprised them all by leaning forward and slipping her hand into the hat, rummaging through the numerous slips of paper until her fingers closed around the one she wanted. She drew her hand out, opened the slip, studied it for the barest fraction of a moment, and handed it to Marth. The slip read TRUTH.

"It's a truth!" he said, rubbing his hands together excitedly. "Okay… Sorry if this offends you, but I gotta ask… Have you ever had an orgasm?"

Link nearly choked to death on his rum and Coke; Falco and Yami fell together, howling with laughter, and Midna looped an arm around Blaze's shoulders bracingly as she sipped on her vodka and cranberry juice. Amazingly, Blaze's face was burning with the most intense blush any of them had ever seen on her cheeks. Her voice was scarcely above a whisper when she answered, "Yes, I have."

"For serious?!" squeaked Sonic, sloshing a little beer out of his bottle and onto the carpet when he jolted forward in shock.

_Hold on,_ Mewtwo interrupted, holding up one hand toward them to stifle their collective laughter. _I'm of the opinion that an orgasm brought on via masturbation does not count._

Their heads snapped back to look at Blaze; it looked as though her cheeks had been filled with lava, so bright was her blush. She lifted her head defiantly just an inch higher and announced, "Then mine still counts, thank you very much!"

"No way!" Sonic's voice was barely recognizable.

_From who?!_ Lucario practically shrieked.

Blaze's cheeks were practically on fire. "I… would prefer not to say."

"You have to tell!" crowed Falco. "It's the rules!"

Thankfully, Midna came to Blaze's aid. "Actually, technically, she already answered the question." Her eyes were upon Marth. "You asked her if she'd ever had an orgasm. She said yes. End of story. Let's move on."

There was a cacophony of disappointed wails as Marth passed the hat over to Blaze; she folded her slip of TRUTH paper back up and deposited it neatly back into the hat before shaking it gently to mix the slips back up, and then glancing around the group she held the hat open in front of Meta Knight. He studied the hat as one might consider a live explosive before reaching his hand inside, fumbling with all the bits of paper, and coming up with one.

TRUTH.

Blaze was looking businesslike. "What is your real name?"

A stunned silence fell upon the group, broken only by Kirby's wondrous murmur of "Ooooooo." Meta Knight's golden eyes burned within the tempered steel of his faceplate, so intense that they looked like twin fires set deep into his masked face. Blaze's smirk did not falter, but she instinctively leaned away from him.

Meta Knight waved his hand. "A drink."

Half of their group tumbled off various chairs and bean bags at this. Falco scrambled with a few bottles on the folding table, his eyes nearly popping out of his head. "Are you joking?! But Meta – you NEVER drink! Are you telling us you'd rather risk getting shitfaced for the first time in your LIFE than tell us your NAME?!"

"Anonymity is a powerful ally," Meta Knight insisted. "Perhaps the strongest comrade I name as my own. A drink, if you please."

Falco shrugged. "Then I'm gonna make it good…" He turned back, brandishing a shot glass in front of Meta Knight's face like it was an especially dirty sock he didn't want to get a whiff of. "Tequila. Straight, no chaser. Enjoy the rest of the night in the bathroom."

Meta Knight dutifully unclasped his faceplate – they were afforded a brief glimpse of a face that was closely akin to Kirby's, though it was pitch black and riddled with pale gray scars – before accepting the shot glass from Falco and sniffing at it curiously. He wrinkled his nose as if he didn't like what he smelled, but toasted Falco all the same saying, "Your health," before downing the contents of the glass in one swallow. He even managed to secure his faceplate back into place with minimal coughing and spluttering. Everyone was snickering at him by the time he had composed himself.

"I'm going to keep asking you that question," Blaze promised, "until you give me an answer."

"Then I suppose the secret will die with me," Meta Knight fired back, "when I die of alcohol poisoning." And he seized the hat from Blaze's hands and brandished it in front of Marth without another word.

Marth also came up with a TRUTH paper, prompting Link to ask Falco, "Damn dude, did you forget to write the word DARE on a few of these?"

Meta Knight had his question ready and waiting. "What really happened between you and Princess Daisy?"

"Hold up," Midna cut in, her eyes wide. "Something went down between you and DAISY?!"

Everyone was staring at Marth now in complete disbelief; the exiled prince had broken out into a sweat and was wringing his hands together. Link sold Marth out by saying, "Oh yeah, something happened, alright."

_You were there?!_ Lucario exclaimed.

Link nodded, looking smug. Marth's face had gone pale. "I was there – we were in college at the time, and we got invited to a frat party across campus. Daisy was there, supposedly with Luigi, but we never really saw him, so – "

"I'll tell it!" Marth squeaked. He was visibly trembling. "Well, rumor had it that Daisy had been attracted to me, but I never thought much of it because it's pretty obvious what my sexual preference is… But she got trashed at this party, so many gin and tonics – "

"Disgusting," Yami interjected in an undertone.

" – That at some point, we lost count. Anyway, one thing led to another…" Marth appeared to be on the verge of tears; several of them were on the extreme edge of their seats. "Somehow she lured me away from the party, and we wound up back in my dorm. I had had a few beers at this point, and was feeling kinda loopy, but Daisy, man, she was fucking _hammered_. Anywho, she practically pounced on me! And I tried to get away, but that chick is strong, and she pinned me down…" Marth glared around at them indignantly, for they were all laughing openly now, rolling from side to side and clutching their stomachs. "So I just decided to go with it until an opportunity presented itself for me to escape, and at one point while we were making out…" Marth grimaced at some memory before finishing, "…She threw up."

Link gasped for air and managed to add, "_In his mouth!_"

Marth buried his face in his hands; Falco stumbled to the table and fixed Marth a glass of Jack and Coke – reportedly the exiled prince's drink of choice – and thrust it into Marth's shaking hand. The former prince didn't even hesitate; he drained the glass in one swig, still shuddering at the memory. The laughter was still echoing throughout the room when Marth seized the hat from Meta Knight, glowering at the smallest swordsman with an expression that promised retribution, and he shook the hat in Link's direction.

"This is payback for embarrassing the shit out of me, you son of a bitch," he snarled, and Link chuckled as he rummaged through the hat's contents.

The paper read DARE. Marth snickered. "And payback's a bitch. Dare you to tell Mewtwo what you said to me about him yesterday."

_What's this?_ rumbled Mewtwo, leaning forward and lacing his fingers with Lucario's smoothly and naturally as he regarded Link disdainfully. Lucario, for his part, suffered the physical contact but gazed back at Link quite guiltily, as though wishing he could break away. _You have something to say to me?_

Link cast a withering glance Marth's way – the prince grinned widely back at him – before looking Mewtwo dead in the eye. "Yeah, I do, actually – I told Marth that I bet I'm twice the man you are in bed."

There followed a mixed chorus of gasps of surprise and chuckles hidden behind hands; Mewtwo's eyes narrowed into slits, and Marth held up one finger as he said in a singsong voice, "Ah ah ah… what were your exact words again?"

Link actually smirked. "I believe my exact words were 'I bet I could get Lucario to scream my name before Mewtwo could'."

Falco actually whistled, and a few of the others visibly grimaced at the weight of the insult, but Mewtwo wasn't about to take such a blow without retaliating. _Odd that you should think so,_ growled Mewtwo, his psychic voice not unlike the dangerous purr of a hunting cat. _I was under the impression that you'd only been to bed once before, and that you don't even remember how successful that pitiful attempt of yours was… or should I say, unsuccessful?_

"Dude," moaned Sonic. "Burn."

But Link was far from through; leaning forward in his bean bag chair and pulling against the restraining hand Falco had clutching his upper arm, he curled his upper lip back rather unattractively and sneered, "If I'm so unsuccessful and you're so much better than me, how come _your_ boyfriend is considering leaving you for _me_?"

"O-KAY!" exclaimed Falco, pitching Link back against his bean bag as Mewtwo flashed a forbidding glare upon poor Lucario. "Let's not postpone the game anymore, this shit is just too much fun!" Falco plunged his hand into the hat that Link held in a death grip in his fingers; the slip he came up with read DARE also. Link cackled victoriously and rubbed his hands together.

"I dare you to show and tell your tattoo," Link giggled, and Falco blushed for perhaps the first time in his entire life.

"You have a tattoo?" Midna inquired, her amber eyes tracing Falco's lithely muscled frame from head to toe with a ponderous expression on her face. "I've seen you in nothing but swim trunks before and didn't see any tattoos."

_And I saw you in a towel yesterday_, Mewtwo agreed, his forehead furrowed. _How did I miss it?_

Finally, Blaze asked the vital question that Link had been hoping someone would voice: "So… where is it?"

Falco ran a hand down his face and steadfastly started unbuckling the front of his three-quarter-length black cargos with stiff yet determined movements; several of their group leapt back and covered their eyes.

"Dude!" yelled Marth, looking scandalized.

Lucario looked slightly green. _What the hell are you doing?!_

Falco fixed them with a withering look; his cargos were unbuckled and unzipped by now, and he had managed to shimmy them an inch or two past his hips. He was wearing roomy boxer shorts that were also black, and appeared to be made of silk. "Look, we haven't even made it one full rotation around this fucking circle, and I'm already on my third Crown and Coke. I've only had one slice of pizza, and I'm already starting to feel a little woozy. No way in hell am I taking another shot right now – I'll be passed out or puking in half an hour. So I'm gonna hold up my end of the bargain and I'm gonna show you my goddamned tattoo." He shimmied his pants down another half inch before adding, "Oh, by the way, this isn't exactly a G-rated tattoo."

And then he shoved his pants down to his knees.

Half of their group screamed and covered their faces with their hands, or their paper plates, or hid behind their half-full glasses of alcohol; the other half unwittingly leaned forward, morbidly fascinated by what they saw. Falco's private anatomy was perhaps the only part of his body not covered with feathers – it was smooth, just like any humanoid's, though in color it matched his brilliant cerulean and crimson feathers. What had them so obviously mesmerized was the intricate tattooing they saw there, covering the entire organ with intertwining hues of black and mottled green.

"What the fuck?" wheezed Marth, squinting as though his eyesight was very poor. "Dude, is your thing…?"

"Camouflage?" breathed Sonic. "Your dong is fucking _camouflage?!_"

"Okay," gasped Midna, her cheeks burning as she stared. "Explain."

"_After_ you pull your pants back up," growled Meta Knight from behind his hands.

Falco yanked his pants back into place, fastening them nonchalantly as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. "I got it done when I got accepted into the Cornerian Army. There isn't really much to tell – I was eighteen, and I thought I was gonna be a badass army brat."

Yami whistled low. "Wicked… Did it hurt?"

"Like what you saw?" Falco snickered, tossing a wink Yami's way. "Not really… but then, I have a pretty high pain tolerance. General Pepper used to say that I could get mowed down by a machine gun, no Kevlar, and laugh about it." He ended by snagging the hat from Link's slackened grip, tossing his slip of paper back inside, and shuffling the papers around. "Next victim?"

He shook the hat in Midna's face; she extracted a slip that read DARE. Falco leaned back comfortably upon his beanbag, looking infinitely superior. "Okay, Midna, since you were bitching so much about all the dudes in this house, I'm curious to know your taste in men. So I dare you to kiss one of the guys here – your choice. I'm not _that_ mean."

Midna glowered at him over the rim of her third vodka and cranberry juice and said, "You can't fucking be serious."

Falco snickered; it was clear by the slight slur in Midna's voice that she was a little inebriated, and he doubted that she would turn down the challenge even despite her protests. "Oh, I'm totally serious. Come on! It's not like I'm asking you to kiss another chick or something. Pick your poison. You might get lucky."

"I doubt it," sighed Midna, but she handed her beverage off to Meta Knight all the same and rose sinuously from her seat; her emerald eyes flitted over her options, looking anywhere from mildly disgusted to downright nauseous, until finally she settled upon who she believed to be her very best option.

Marth almost cried when the Twilight Princess took her first telltale step in his direction. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

Midna laughed aloud and shook her amber hair away from her face as she completed her approach. "I think I'm about to kiss a fairy."

Then she swooped down upon him, leaned him back in his chair, and stifled his scream of terror with her luscious ebony lips. The others howled with laughter as she trapped his arms at his sides and forced him to cease his struggles, and after twenty full seconds he finally seemed to relax and succumb to what was happening. Midna wiped her lips on the back of her hand when she finally drew back; Marth looked positively mortified.

Midna thrust the hat in Mewtwo's direction without a word.

Mewtwo leaned forward and plucked a single slip of paper from the hat without taking much time to consider. The scrap read TRUTH.

"Perfect," crowed Midna. "Alright… How big is it?"

Mewtwo blinked. _I beg your pardon?_

"Don't even play dumb with me." Midna relaxed back into her seat, rotating her wrist and swilling the contents of her glass slowly as she regarded Mewtwo. "Wolf told me that he overheard you and Lucario doing it in the dead of night a few weeks back. You know exactly what I'm talking about, so spill the beans."

Link did his best not to wince, but the knowledge that Lucario and Mewtwo had officially slept together caused a flash of pain to flit across his face; just to pour salt into the proverbial wound Mewtwo smirked, looking smug, and said, _Eight inches._

Midna whistled, obviously impressed. "Solid. Kudos." She tossed Mewtwo the hat.

Mewtwo turned immediately to Lucario, his eyes burning a sharp snow-white; Lucario matched his gaze with equal intensity, his normally amber eyes shining a devilish ruby, and pawed through the hat until he had settled upon a slip of paper he found suitable.

More than one voice grimaced when he unfolded the slip to read the word DARE to them, for it was obvious that there was bad blood between Mewtwo and Link and poor Lucario was trapped in the middle. Mewtwo tossed a haughty look Link's way before stroking Lucario's cheek in a way that was intended to be disarming, but which actually made Lucario bristle with discomfort.

_I dare you to tell Link you don't love him_, Mewtwo purred, and the few among them who were Link's closest friends and most loyal supporters – Falco, Marth, and Midna – bristled with rage and hissed at these words.

Falco leapt to his feet. "Erm, wow, I gotta pee."

"Me too," Marth agreed hurriedly.

"I think I need another drink," Midna observed, and everyone vacated the room before the inevitable explosion.

* * *

><p>Vick was almost finished getting dressed when a knock sounded on her closed bedroom door – two sharp raps with a heavy fist she knew simply by sound belonged to Wolf. She snapped, "Go away," knowing full well he wouldn't listen, and found that she was grateful when her intuition proved correct and the door eased open. Wolf stopped short at the sight of her lacing a pair of running shoes on.<p>

"Don't tell me you're leaving too," he said in his gruffest voice, the one he reserved for times when he was too emotional to speak normally.

Vick paused. "'Too'?"

"Yeah." Wolf took a draw from a bottle of beer that looked recently opened and held it out to her; Vick immediately sat up straight. It was a well-known fact that Wolf O'Donnell shared beer with no one – this was a sign that he was feeling truly vulnerable. She accepted the bottle and took a swig as he crossed the room and flopped down beside her. "Silver took Shadow back to hedgehog land – Shadow's mind really is cracked, man, he shook my hand when they were walking out the door and thanked me for my very moving performance in _Titanic_." Wolf shook his head; Vick did her best to stifle a chuckle. "Pit moved out and moved in with that fairy chick he's been dating, and Lance went back to wherever it is he came from."

This last admission pained Vick; Lance had left without saying goodbye? Hadn't they been close? She shook her head – a little too forcefully, Wolf was keen to notice. "They'll all be back."

The mercenary's lip pulled upward into a smirk. "Wishful thinking?"

"It's the truth." She could no longer stand the feeling of her hands being idle, and took another drink before handing the bottle off to its owner. "The fighting is good here. They'll be back."

"A'int that the truth." Wolf studied her trembling hands in silence, wishing that he was the type that could just reach out and take her hands in both of his, but sympathy had never been one of his strong suits. Instead he drew on the bottle again and said after he swallowed, "You didn't answer me. You going somewhere?"

"Just… out," Vick finished evasively

"You can do better than that, babe." Wolf winked his single eye roguishly. "If you're gonna lie, at least make it a good one."

"I won't lie." Vick's voice quavered; she swallowed it back. Wolf was suddenly struck with the knowledge that standing before him was the bravest woman he had ever known. "I'm having a hard time coming to terms with the things that happened to me; nobody understands that the shit I went through was _real_. It isn't some bullshit story I came up with while I was wandering around in the wilderness or something. You don't get it. I was covered in blood that wasn't mine. I was screaming so loud I could feel my throat tearing. I was hanging suspended by ropes, unable to breathe, feeling my own bones break." She swallowed again, her eyes overbright now. "So I'm gonna go out and find Akabane. I don't know where he is and I have no idea how to find him, but I need to be around somebody who's… seen the things that I've seen." And seemingly for no reason at all, Vick burst into tears.

Wolf had been waiting for her to have an emotional meltdown and set his bottle aside immediately; reaching up he pulled her down onto the mattress beside him and held her so firmly in his arms that her feeble struggles did nothing to free herself. Unable to break free she dissolved into tears, and Wolf held her face tight against his chest and stroked her back with his uncertain hands and wished to God he could do something more proactive than this. He wasn't an intermediary. This wasn't his style. When the people he admitted to caring about were genuinely hurt he killed the ones who had hurt them. Laying here and feeling Vick shudder with broken sobs only made him feel helpless.

He did the only thing he could think of. "How about you tell me exactly what went down, start to finish, and when you're done I'll tell you what happened to me."

So Vick began to talk, the words spilling from her lips saturated with desperation to make anyone believe her story. Wolf lay there for an indeterminable period of time, hanging on her every word, feeling the tension ease out of her weary muscles and the wracking sobs gradually subside into little sniffles, and though he would never admit it to Vick or to anyone else he found that he was numb with shock over all that had happened to her.

And of course, he believed every word of her tale. After all, if he didn't believe _her_, who in the hell would ever believe _him_?

True to his word, Wolf confessed to her his entire miraculous recovery story the moment she grew quiet. He told her all about leaping in front of Blaze and taking Wesker's bullet for her, and how the resulting wound had grazed his heart and left him with no chance of survival. He told her all about the boat ride to the other shore, the unbelievable peace and calm he had felt during the journey and how the voices of their friends had seemed an entire lifetime away. He told her about how he had known he was dying, and fighting against that knowledge until he felt robbed of all his strength. And finally he confessed to meeting Sebastian on the brink of receiving his eternal reward, how Sebastian was really a demon lord from the blackest corner of the underworld, and how he had pledged to surrender his soul to the demon in exchange for one more shot at life, and redemption.

When he had finished Vick peered up at him almost timidly, her silver-blonde hair a mess around her face and the last of her tears shining in her steel gray eyes. He unwound one arm from around her back and wiped the moisture from her eyelashes with the tips of his fingers as she croaked, "So you… what, sold your soul to the devil or something?"

"A demon, if you wanna get super specific," Wolf corrected, and he shrugged. "Same damn thing in my book, though. All details aside, my soul isn't mine anymore."

"How do you know?" she challenged. "It could be a lie. He could be tricking you."

"I thought of that at first, too, but then I thought back to how my eye socket burned right before I woke up and then I saw this." Wolf reached his hand up and tugged his eyepatch up, exposing what Vick thought would be an empty socket but what was actually something else entirely. Beneath the eyepatch was a shimmering orb roughly the size of a regular human eye, but it was glassy and pinkish-purple in color and engraved with a strange occult symbol Vick had never seen before. Fascinating by the gleam she stretched one hand out, stroking the glowing orb within Wolf's eye socket; he didn't flinch away, seemingly unaffected by her touch, and beneath her fingertips the orb was cool and ultra-smooth. Her mouth gaped in wonder.

"What… is that?"

"The symbol of our contract," Wolf told her. "It's proof that my soul belongs to Sebastian, and that when I die it's his to take; it's also proof that he's at my constant beckon call until I kick the bucket again. At first I wasn't sure, but then I remembered seeing the same symbol on the back of his hand. I asked him about it, and he told me."

Vick was mesmerized. "Can you _see_ out of that thing?"

Wolf nodded. "As good as if I had two normal-person eyes again."

"So why the eyepatch?" Vick couldn't help but laugh.

Wolf smirked roguishly. "It throws off my depth perception. I'm used to being a cyclops by now." In answer to Vick's knowing gaze he sighed and admitted, "Okay, so I didn't want to have to answer everybody's questions, so I kept the damn eyepatch on. What's it to you?"

Vick cracked a smile. "You should tell them what happened. I know they'd believe you."

"How do you know that?" snorted Wolf, sounding skeptical.

"Because you believed _me_." Vick forced another smile, and in it Wolf could see a shadow of her former radiance. "Besides – they know that something's not right, because they know just how bad of shape you were in. You told me you flat-lined, right? They're not stupid. Set the record straight."

Wolf was nodding along slowly, trying his best to appear composed while inside his stomach was veritably roiling with nerves. "Yeah… I know you're right. I'll tell 'em." He ruffled her hair affectionately and yanked his eyepatch back into place, prompting Vick to roll her eyes. "So… you're going to look for Akabane."

Vick squirmed out of his arms just enough so that she could study his face; his single eye was hard, and his jaw was set in a disapproving fashion. "I'm guessing that you don't think this is a very good idea."

"I think you'd have a better chance of getting my support if you said you wanted to pursue a career in pole dancing," Wolf admitted, and though he snickered at his own joke Vick knew there was a certain measure of sincerity behind his protest because the tension never left his eye.

"He was with me in the village," Vick reminded, sounding stubborn. "Like I said, I need to talk to someone who's seen the things I've seen. It'll make me feel better. Right now I just feel like I'm losing my mind."

Wolf raised an eyebrow. "The guy fights with scalpels. He wears white latex gloves."

"So he's got a doctor motif thing going on. Big deal. All this image judgment coming from the guy who thinks pirate eye patches are still fashionable."

"He left you on top of a church."

"Probably the safest place he could think to leave me," Vick mused with the hint of a smile.

Wolf scowled. "You're afraid of heights."

"I'm even more afraid of getting killed in alleys by sex-crazed maniacs in sunglasses."

Wolf rolled his eye theatrically, but inwardly he was thinking that he would choose a similar path if given the same two options. "You want me to come along?"

Vick shook her head. "Thanks, but everything should be fine. He mentioned that he'd be keeping an eye on me until he had a better bead on Wesker and Legato, so I have a feeling that if I just put myself out in the open he'll come to me. Besides, it isn't like I'm doing anything dangerous… I just want to… talk to him about a few things."

Something about the way Vick stumbled over the last half of her sentence prompted Wolf to say, "You aren't just looking to talk to him about what went down in the village. Your goal isn't just to restore yourself to the pathetic level of sanity you had before – "

"Thanks for that, jackass."

" – I mean, there's gotta be something else you want from this guy." Wolf's single eye suddenly grew very wide, and he gripped Vick by the forearms so tightly that her arms went numb and shook her almost violently. "Don't tell me you're after this guy's nuts, Ralis! I mean, come on – didn't you learn your lesson with that bastard Wesker?! Akabane may have helped you, but let's get real here – in reality, he's just as dangerous as Wesker – if not more!"

Vick cast Wolf a withering look. "I appreciate the vote of confidence for my slutty behavior, but to be honest, _no_, I'm not looking to get sexual with Akabane. Actually… I was hoping he could help me toughen up some."

Wolf blinked owlishly. "_No comprende_."

"If I'm gonna keep hanging around you lunkheads, I'm gonna have to learn some offensive and defensive skills," Vick confided matter-of-factly. "I can't keep sitting around playing damsel in distress; I'm not gonna be the helpless kidnap victim again, because it makes me wanna vomit every time you guys come charging in like King Arthur's knights to save me. I need to learn how to protect myself, and Akabane… he knows how to do some serious damage."

Wolf seemed appalled by this idea. "Now I know you're out of your fuckin' mind! Any one of us could teach you how to fight and you pick Hannibal Lecter to be your teacher?!"

"Oh, come on, Wolf – I can't make you trust Akabane, but I know that you trust _me._ Do you think I'd go anywhere near him if I thought on any level that he'd turn out to be the next Wesker?"

"When Wesker was banging you, did you think on any level that he'd turn out to be the biggest shithead you've ever slept with?" Wolf countered, looking enraged and victorious all at once.

Vick heaved a sigh. "No, I didn't… but that was different. Looking back on it, I see signs all over the place that I should have seen when they happened. He never showed any affection toward me. He didn't hesitate to mutilate you guys in battle – and not only did he never apologize for any of the wounds he inflicted, but he seemed to really enjoy hurting everyone. But Akabane is different; he warned me about Legato, and he put me on top of that church to keep me from Wesker. He led me to All God's Village to keep me safe and then went out of his way to protect me. He's terrifying in a similar way, but I've seen another person that I don't think anyone else has seen in a really long time. I know he isn't going to be the next Wesker because he saved my life."

Wolf threw an arm over his face and moaned. "There you go getting all sentimental. Oh well. It isn't like I have the right to tell you who you can and can't trust – hell, I'd be the world's biggest hypocrite if I tried. Cuz let's face it – Wolf O'Donnell, abhorred mercenary commander, killer of thousands… not exactly the trustworthy type, and I think I know just how much you trust me."

Vick grinned then. "With my life, you know."

"I know." He acted completely out of character then, and placed a swift kiss upon her forehead. "Come downstairs and have a drink with me before you go? Lord knows we could both use one. Besides, I think I hear drama… we wouldn't wanna miss that." Vick was on her feet with one hand on the doorknob when Wolf added hastily, "At least let me teach you how to shoot a sniper rifle or something! For my own peace of mind! I mean, Christ, who on God's green Earth doesn't know how to fire a gun anymore?!"

* * *

><p>Lucario was still glaring daggers at Mewtwo ten minutes later, when the others dared to slink back into the sitting room. By the time they arrived Wolf was swilling a Jack and Coke with a swizzle stick, and Vick was tossing back a shot of vodka and chasing it with fruit punch.<p>

_I don't suppose you could run that by me again?_ snarled Mewtwo dangerously, and several of them grimaced at his confrontational tone of voice.

Lucario refused to back down. _You heard me. I said that if we're still playing this ridiculous game – _

"At this point I think we're all kinda shooting from the hip," Falco murmured beneath his breath.

_- I need a drink,_ Lucario finished, unfazed by the interruption.

Mewtwo's eyes were the most chilling white hue they had ever seen – sharp and cold, like icicles. _And why is that?!_

_Because I absolutely refuse to acknowledge any part of that dare!_ Lucario bellowed, his body posture unmistakably standoffish as he squared himself to face Mewtwo. _What started out as a harmless game has become little more than some personal vendetta of yours to cause as much discord between you and I, and myself and Link, as you possibly can! Why must every affair end with such hostility?!_

_Generally our affairs do not end with hostility,_ Mewtwo pointed out, and his eyes flashed across the room to where Link was standing with a beer in one hand and the other hand planted firmly on his hip. _Things only seem to go awry when Link is involved._

Falco laid a hand upon Link's shoulder as though he needed restraining, but the Hylian simply took a swig of his beer and laughed aloud. "Hey, don't blame this one on me, Mewtwo – everybody else is witness to the fact that you fucked this one up all on your own. I'm not the excessively violent type – far from it, actually – but if you keep provoking me I won't hesitate to kick your ass. Remember what we talked about back at the hospital?"

_You said that you were prepared to fight for Lucario,_ Mewtwo recalled, negligently waving a hand in the air as though this information hardly mattered. _I have not forgotten your empty threats and your meaningless promises._

"Actually, what I said as that I would fight twice as hard," Link reminded. "So for your sake, you'd better let this go right now."

Mewtwo shot his forbidding glare back upon Lucario. _Do you love him?!_

Lucario didn't miss a beat. _Why do you think I refused the dare, you fool?_

Link's chest twisted painfully then, but not in an unpleasant way; rather his heart had just realized something very important, and acknowledged it all in the same short period of time. It was that he was in love, and that love had the possibility of being returned – it was joyous, and terrifying. He wished he could think of something more profound to say besides, "What?!"

The brilliant magenta energy that was Mewtwo's psychic power flared to life all around him; several of them laid hands upon weapons, looking angry and alarmed. Mewtwo roared, an enraged sound that echoed in all of their minds, and loosed an orb of pure psychic force that lanced toward Lucario like a lightning bolt.

Link moved with the grace and swiftness of a hunting predator, his feet working in quick strides to bring him closer to Mewtwo's intended target and his hands moving independently to unsheathe the Master Sword from its familiar resting place upon his hip. As he went he threw the now-empty bottle of beer over his shoulder – Wolf caught it easily in his free hand, looking as though nothing was amiss – and in one fluid motion Link had brought the sword to bear and swung it out before him like a baseball bat. The enchanted blade connected with the magenta orb with a shrieking sound like nails on a chalkboard, and then the force of the stroke sent the psychic energy screaming back toward its master.

Mewtwo put up one hand to still the orb in midair, and was in the process of shrinking it down into an inconsequential mass when Link stalked forward and punched the Pokemon square in the face. Mewtwo stumbled backward with a howl, his arms windmilling uselessly and his face already darkening with bruising. Almost everyone was staring open-mouthed at Link – except Vick, who was smiling and shaking her head, and Lucario, who was beaming at the Hylian with pride.

_Damn you!_ snarled Mewtwo, straightening up with some difficulty. _If you think that I'm going to let you humiliate me –_

But Link wasn't interested in hearing Mewtwo's threats. "You wanna take this outside?"

_Excuse me?_ Mewtwo drawled, looking slightly cross-eyed.

"You heard me," said Link with a laugh. "I asked if you wanted to take this outside. I'll go right this second if you want – do you think you can take me?"

_This is absurd,_ chuckled Mewtwo darkly. _What are you hoping to accomplish?_

Link worked the Master Sword through a few simple maneuvers, considering Mewtwo with the faintest hint of a smile on his face. "I have a lot to prove, you know – to you, to Lucario, and to myself. I have to prove to you that I'm no pushover, and that I deserve to be with Lucario more than you do. I have to make Lucario see that I deserve a second chance, and that I can treat him better than you can. And I have to prove to myself that it's okay to feel the way that I feel. So do you wanna fight, or don't you? Because even if you give me everything you've got, you won't stand a chance."

Mewtwo snickered – the sound was low and forbidding, and sent a chill down Lucario's spine. His answer surprised all of them. _I hardly think a show of brute force is the way to settle this dispute – after all, do you really want to leave someone's affections hanging on the outcome of one battle?_

"What do you propose instead?" snarled Link through gritted teeth.

_Let him choose,_ said Mewtwo with a shrug, glancing Lucario's way.

It was then that Lucario issued a very heavy sigh. _Do I get a say in this? It is my interests you are discussing here._

"Of course you get a say in this," Vick cut in, glaring alternately back and forth between Link and Mewtwo with all the protectiveness of a mother shining in her eyes. "You two, put a damper on all this raging testosterone for a minute – you've been so busy trying to out-man each other that you never once asked Lucario what he wants. Isn't that sort of the entire point here? Who can make him happiest?"

Mewtwo conceded the logic with a reluctant shrug and gestured for Lucario to speak. _Very well. Tell us what is in your heart, Lucario._

"It doesn't matter what your choice is," Link assured, a steely note to his voice that suggested he was bracing himself for Lucario's ultimate and final rejection. "We just want you to be happy."

All eyes were on Lucario now, who was gazing sadly back and forth between his two prospective mates, and though he seemed unwilling to voice his thoughts on the matter aloud with all of them bearing witness his discomfort did not stop him from being completely truthful then. He turned to fully face Mewtwo in the next instant, and Link's heart plummeted into the pit of his stomach as he prepared to hear Lucario's heartfelt admission of the depths of his feelings for the other Pokemon –

_I owe you a very sincere apology,_ Lucario began, and though his eyes were predominantly remorseful while he stated his confession there was a slight undercurrent of anger to his tone of voice. _I cannot carry on with you this way, Mewtwo. In the beginning you may have cared for me, but your jealousy and your fear of being replaced have led you to make some very poor and hurtful decisions in recent weeks. To even attempt to force me to hurt Link with a lie, in front of all of these people, was simply mean-spirited; your only aim could have been to cause both he and I pain without reason. And to refuse to allow me to donate my blood to him in the hospital, when the alternative may have resulted in his death… I realize that you may have had my well being at heart, but I made my stance on the matter inescapably clear. I will not remain with you while it is clear that your only aim is to cause discord. I choose to be with Link._

The silence that followed this proclamation was so absolutely that Link swore he could hear the ice cubes in Wolf's cocktail glass clinking gently together, but bedlam was quick to follow.

_How can this be your choice?! _Mewtwo roared, his eyes flashing dangerously, and several among them edged hands toward weapons again. _He led you to believe that he cared about you, and then denied you!_

_I remember,_ Lucario admitted patiently.

_He took up with Zelda! _Mewtwo was looking deranged. _He slept with her and made no secret of it!_

Lucario winced but did not argue. _I recall. I was there._

_AND STILL YOU MEAN TO CHOOSE HIM?! _Mewtwo's telepathic voice was now so loud in their minds that several among them were rubbing their temples as psychic headaches sunk in.

Lucario glanced wistfully Link's way and flashed him the smallest eyes-only smile that the Hylian had ever seen, and the expression was so full of longing that Link's heart contracted in his chest; his next words were soft, but the weight they carried was so great that it seemed almost as though his voice was louder even than Mewtwo's had been. _I have no explanation and no excuses. The heart wants what it wants. There is nothing more I can say except that I think it would be best if you left now._

Mewtwo rocked back a step as though he had been physically struck, though they were all left wondering just how emotionally distraught he really was – there was no hurt in his eyes, only rage and a mounting desire for revenge. _You forsake me and then have the nerve to throw me out?! Surely you can't –_

"You heard the man," Falco broke in, taking a generous swig of beer and looking adamant. "Luca says out, you best get out. No way are any of us siding with you over him… no offense or anything."

_And do you all feel this way?_ growled Mewtwo tersely, and Vick had the answer while the rest of them glanced quizzically at one another at a loss for words.

"It's plain to see that Link and Lucario were meant to be together," she said, as though this were obvious. "In that respect, at least, you're kind of a home wrecker. We can all agree that this is a shitty way for things to end between you guys, but… this is what Lucario wants, and he has our support."

"Hear hear," Meta Knight chimed in, and the others muttered their agreement as Mewtwo's cheeks reddened with anger and embarrassment.

_Do not think this is over,_ Mewtwo hissed in a most malicious tone of voice, stalking a pace or two nearer to where Lucario stood and jabbing one finger accusingly in his direction. _Do not think for a moment that I am prepared to abide a betrayal of this magnitude. For you to respond this way, after the loyalty I have shown you… I will never forgive you for this._

_I am truly sorry,_ Lucario murmured, his face downtrodden and his voice saturated with sincerity, but Mewtwo didn't even spare him a backward glance as he made for the door.

Again an uncomfortable silence descended upon the group, but it was not made to last long; Falco did an extraordinary job of diffusing the tension in the next moment when he took up a bottle of rum and brandished a handful of empty glasses, saying, "Well, I guess now we have something to celebrate… Who wants another round?"

* * *

><p>Vick stood on the back porch at two thirty in the morning, chewing her full bottom lip anxiously and contemplating just how to accomplish what she was about to set out to do. It wasn't that she was having second thoughts about seeking out Akabane - quite the contrary her resolve hadn't wavered all day, and had only strengthened after she had spoken with Wolf on the matter. Rather, it was that she was no longer feeling as brave as she had made herself out to be, and now wished very much that she was not about to set out into the dark alone.<p>

Akabane had said he would be watching – she remembered the words vividly – but how closely was he really watching her? She lifted her bare arm and studied it with draw eyebrows, taking note that her flesh wasn't prickled like it usually was when he was in close proximity. She didn't feel his eyes on her, but was there some way she could get in touch with him?

If she set out alone into the darkness of the forest, would he come for her?

She glanced nervously over her shoulder. The curtains were drawn in the living room, but she could hear voices on the other side of the windowpane and knew that most of the household was still awake despite the lateness of the hour. If she lingered much longer she would surely be discovered and questioned, and she would lose the opportunity to look for Akabane at all. Rather than be caught she sucked in a shaky breath and padded down the weathered wooden steps as silently as she could manage, and when her feet reached the grass she didn't allow herself to hesitate; she set out across the darkened lawn toward the looming black trees, doing her best not to focus on how their limbs waved ominously in the light summer's breeze.

The night was clear and quiet; the moonlight shone down in a radiant silver cascade, illuminating the backyard with its brilliance. The light filtering down through the thick canopies of the trees glanced across a figure wearing black clothing, and Vick's heart leapt into her throat and started hammering double time; she was certain it was Akabane waiting for her, and she almost broke into a run at the sight of him. It wasn't until she was within ten feet of the tree line that the figure within the deep foliage moved forward enough for her to make out his facial features and realize that she had made a terrible mistake.

It wasn't Akabane at all. It was Albert Wesker.

Vick stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of him, dread churning in her stomach like acid, and as she stood frozen before him he melted out of the trees so that she could see every last detail of him. His eyes burned a blood red crimson behind the thick black lenses he wore, and one corner of his mouth curled upward into the shadow of a sadistic smirk. "I've been waiting for you to leave that house all day, you know." He pitched his voice lower, velvety seductive and dangerous. "It's rude to keep a man waiting."

Instinctively Vick's fingers twitched in the direction of Vulpix's Poke Ball resting at her hip, but she thought better of it almost immediately; she wasn't about to endanger one more creature in her own defense. Instead of making a feeble attempt at thwarting him, she did the only other thing that came to mind – she turned and fled, remembering well his otherworldly speed and knowing she had no chance at outrunning him.

The elbow struck her spine about halfway down her back and abruptly her legs lost all motor function completely; she might have swooned forward and collapsed helplessly to the ground then, but Wesker's hand closed upon the back of her neck and held her suspended with ease. He turned her around to face him and sneered in the face of her obvious helplessness; Vick gazed dumbly down at her own feet and marveled at her inability to make herself kick him, which was all she really wanted to do just then. Wesker inched his face closer to hers and whispered, "I've gone through an awful lot of trouble to catch up with you the last several days… How are you prepared to repay me for all of my trouble?"

Thankfully Vick's salivary glands seemed to be working just fine, which she proved a moment later by spitting in Wesker's face. He bared his teeth furiously and threw her roughly to the ground; she struck with enough force to send pain shooting all through her body, but all she could think to feel was relief that her legs still seemed able to experience pain - which meant she was more than likely not paralyzed. Not that this would matter in the end, as she already knew what was coming next.

Wesker knelt down, straddling her body as he seized her shirt with the fingers of his right hand; he seemed to exert very little force as he flexed his muscles, yet the fabric still tore easily. His other hand tore her belt in half, ripped the zipper of her vintage jeans, snapped off the button, forced the denim down her legs in a way that made her struggles completely useless. He was unzipping the front of the skintight black Kevlar pants he wore when Vick rediscovered how to use her legs, and she brought her knee smashing into his groin.

This had no effect on Wesker whatsoever, except to spurn him into demonic laughter. Vick gritted her teeth and growled the only thing left on her mind. "My friends will kill you. You won't get away with this."

Wesker simply laughed as he bent down, now so close that Vick had to fight the urge to vomit. "Of course I will." And then he leaned closer still, until he was all around her and she was absolutely certain there would be no escape –

And then Wesker was gone without any explanation; it was as though his weight had simply been removed from on top of hers and he had vanished into thin air. For a moment she wondered if he had merely intended to terrify her, and had never meant to follow through with a sexual assault of any kind, and she sat up and glanced around, bewildered –

Wesker was kneeling on the ground some fifty feet away, struggling to rise to his feet and only partially succeeding; standing over him like a specter of imminent death was Akabane Kuroudo, his face a remorseless mask and a thin silver scalpel dripping blood in his right hand. Vick instinctively called his name, and when Akabane turned his head to regard her, his eyes were as empty and fathomless as black holes.

He said only one word to her: "Run."

Vick scrabbled to her feet – her legs were numb and tingly, the way limbs felt when blood hadn't properly circulated to the extremities for several minutes – and set off at a dead sprint for the wooden staircase leading to the back porch of Brawlers Mansion. She had made it half the distance when a shot rang out and a bullet from Wesker's gun grazed her upper arm; Vick grimaced and stumbled, her knees giving way as pain coursed through her body, and she crashed heavily to the ground. Wesker was upon her immediately, his hand raking through her hair hard enough to tear out a few pale blonde strands, and Vick's scream pierced through the night when his other hand clamped down upon her bleeding arm –

Akabane lunged upon Wesker's back with a scalpel flashing crimson in the moonlight, but Wesker was ready for him this time; his elbow snapped back and caught Akabane in the center of his chest, the impact reverberating through the balmy air like two trains colliding. Akabane grunted but refused to withdraw, his eyes wild and inhuman as he stabbed his arm back down and dug the scalpel into Wesker's back, and at last Wesker released Vick and tackled his adversary to the ground. They were both on their feet in an instant, moving so quickly that all Vick could distinguish was a pair of blurred figures that were barely darker than the foliage backdrop behind them; Vick scooted backward on her behind, away from them, hoping against hope that she could reach the house and alert the others to Wesker's presence.

Another bullet exploded from the swirling black masses; this one passed so close to Vick's ear that it buffeted her hair. She planted the heels of her hands into the grass and pushed herself up, this time ignoring the pain that shot through her arm as she launched to her feet and backed away –

Seeing that she was preparing to escape Wesker opened fire with the remaining bullets in his handgun; Akabane broke away and slid coolly in front of Vick, concealing her with his impervious body and his rippling black coat. Vick gasped aloud at the sound of four bullets tearing through flesh; Akabane grunted again and buckled, but did not fall, whisking another scalpel from thin air and launching three of the small blades in what seemed like one snap of his wrist. Two of the scalpels ripped through the fingers that clutched the gun, the other sliced through Wesker's wrist, and the firearm dropped from Wesker's limp hand and landed with a soft _thud_ upon the grass.

Behind her, Vick heard the sliding glass door that led from the kitchen to the second-floor back porch open, and pounding footsteps upon the wooden patio; turning she caught a glimpse of Wolf, Lucario, Link, Falco, and Yami as they paused at the crest of the stairs, eyes wide and horrified at the scene sprawled before them. Wesker seized the momentary distraction and struck three heavy blows to Akabane's torso, targeting the miniature puncture wounds where the bullets from his gun had torn through Akabane's flesh. Akabane couldn't keep his feet under the onslaught and sank down to one knee with a grimace, unable to stop Wesker from passing him by and seizing Vick by the scruff of her neck. Several of the mansion's residents cried out helplessly as Vick struggled, but no one dared to move a muscle in her defense for fear of what might happen if Wesker felt threatened by any of them.

Wesker glanced down at Akabane, nudging his sunglasses down his nose a fraction so that Akabane didn't miss the glint of superiority in his eyes when he said, "It's good that you chose to come here tonight. I have been wondering what your true colors were, and when you would condescend to show them. Now I have seen the truth." He squeezed his fingers, inciting a ripple of pain strong enough to draw a scream from Vick, and finished, "Did you really think you could protect her from me? None of these worthless fools can."

Akabane managed a tiny smirk before he lifted his hand to the sky, saying, "Worthless, am I?"

Something red glittered far above them, and Wesker tilted his head back to investigate it; Vick snapped her head back with every ounce of strength she could muster and connected solidly enough with Wesker's nose to make him loosen his grip, and the moment she was free she sprinted to Akabane. The single red shimmer became hundreds, thousands, perhaps millions as they streaked from the heavens like flaming meteors; on the porch the brawlers skittered backward until they were concealed beneath the protective overhang of the roof, and the instant Vick was within arms' reach Akabane pulled her close and shoved her down beneath him, trapping her beneath the ground and his body, flinging the fabric of his coat over them both as a shield.

That was when the millions of crimson pinpricks of light became a sheet of cascading scalpels, slicing downward upon Albert Wesker like a cruel, tearing rain. At first he grunted and struggled to free himself but there was nowhere he could go to escape the shower of blades, and after a shriek of agony he fell still and silent to the ground, his body intact but slashed to ribbons.

Only when it was quiet in the yard did Akabane fling the coat off of himself with a flourish of his arm, and Vick shot to her feet as though electrocuted. Those who had taken refuge on the back porch came thundering down the stairs together, and the darkened yard was suddenly filled with shouting voices.

_Vick!_ called Lucario, and the instant he reached her he pulled her gingerly yet insistently to him in an embrace, careful not to nudge her bleeding arm. _Are you alright?!_

Link was less concerned for her safety and much more concerned with her motives. "What the hell are you doing out here?! It's the middle of the night! You should have known better than to be out here by yourself! Did you think that Wesker had forgotten about you or something?! What were you thinking?!"

An awful snarl ripped itself from Wolf's throat, and Link rocked back a step when he realized that it was being directed at him. Wolf's single severe eye was fixed upon Vick's torn and bloody arm. "Back off, Link, she's been shot!"

"Holy shit!" cried Falco, moving in to inspect the wound. "Are you okay?!"

"I'm _fine_!" Vick shouted over all of them, brushing Wolf's and Falco's hands away none too gently and turning immediately to Akabane, who was watching all of this unfold with a grimace that was half amusement and half discomfort. Her eyes swept the front of his coat – the fabric was torn and deep red in all of the areas where the bullets had torn through the garment and pierced the flesh beneath. Despite his injuries, Vick couldn't help punching Akabane angrily in the arm, not at all surprised when her strike didn't jolt him even an inch. "What the hell are you _doing_?! Are you _crazy_?! You could have been _killed_! What is the matter with you?!"

Akabane's eyes had grown hard. "What is the matter with me? I am not the one wandering helpless and alone in the dead of night. I agree with your friend here." He jerked his head in Link's direction. "I demand that you tell us this instant what you are doing out here. Did I not insist that you be wary? Did I not warn you that Albert Wesker would be watching your every step?"

Falco moved back in to inspect Vick's arm; the bullet had only grazed her flesh, and the injury was mostly superficial. Vick ignored all of Akabane's questions, her uninjured hand curled into a fist and planted firmly upon her shapely hip, her eyes narrowed into disapproving slits. "You _demand_?!"

Akabane's eyes took on their empty, fathomless quality again, and his icy voice wiped the rage from Vick's face when he hissed, "Yes. I demand."

The words tumbled out of Vick's mouth willingly enough, but they were not the words that any of them expected to hear. "I came out here looking for you. I… I need your help."

Akabane gestured in the direction of Wesker's slashed body – or rather the bloody patch of grass upon which he had lay not long ago, for he had already vanished while they spoke. "What more could you possibly require of me?"

Vick did her best to sound brave, but she was suddenly terrified of him. "I need you to train me. You're one of the only guys around here who can stand up to Wesker! I have to learn. Nights like tonight can never happen again!"

Akabane managed a small chuckle, and then something unbelievable happened. He held out one hand, summoning every single crimson scalpel back at some silent command, and the thin blades rocketed toward him at an incredible velocity before absorbing back into his very skin. When the very last blade had vanished from sight he let his arm fall back to his side and they watched, mortified, as the four bullets Wesker had shot worked their way back to the surface of Akabane's broken skin and fell harmlessly to the ground at his feet.

He put up a hand to straighten his hat, and when next he glanced up Akabane's familiar eerie half-smile was back in place. Vick's face was so pale that the others were certain she would faint on the spot, but a moment later she was shaking her head incredulously, her mouth slightly agape as she fumbled for words.

"What… How… How did you do that…?!"

"My abilities are not something that can be taught," Akabane insisted, dusting off his white-gloved hands with his long, thin, dexterous fingers. "My abilities are innate, and no one may learn them. Therefore there is literally nothing that I can teach you."

Vick turned immediately to the other five gathered around her, her eyes wide and pleading. "Then you guys have to teach me."

"What?!" Falco was gaping at Vick now as though horrified by something she had said. "Now all of a sudden you want to start fighting with us?! Get real! It's too dangerous!"

Vick's eyes were so full of rage that no one would have been surprised if sparks started flying from them. "You let Midna and Blaze fight, and they're women too! What's the difference?!"

Lucario's tone was much milder than Falco's, but no less protective. _The difference is that Blaze and Midna are trained in various forms of combat, Victoria – in one way or another, they have lived their lives on the battlefield. Do not take this personally, but… you are a bartender, and the skills that you have acquired over the years are decidedly more, shall we say, domestic than theirs._

Vick had a fleeting mental image of herself in a maid uniform with an oversized feather duster, breezing around the living room of Brawlers Mansion and keeping everything spic and span while her friends kept the homicidal maniacs at bay. Needless to say, it was not a vision that sat well with her. "If you think for one second that I'm going to keep living this way – "

Abruptly, Yami came to her aid. "All the more reason for us to teach her anything and everything we can, Lucario. Think about it – the greatest fighters in the world have gathered under one roof, and despite all of our talents we were soundly defeated." He glanced at Wolf in a way that dared the lupine to object when he said, "One of us even perished in that battle."

Wolf scowled deeply back at the pharaoh, but remembered Vick's words and said nothing. His silence was like a resounding confirmation for all of them.

Vick lifted her head unashamedly, her eyes shimmering with unwavering resolve. "Maybe this isn't smart. Hell, maybe it won't even work. And I know it's not much, but it's all I can do to help out against Wesker and Legato." She lowered her head and finished softly, "Besides… it doesn't look like Wesker plans on disappearing anytime soon, so… shouldn't I at least do everything I can for you?"

"It isn't your fault that Wesker is hanging around here," Falco started to protest, but Vick wouldn't hear another word.

"Yes it is! I was the one who brought him here; I was the one who watched like some rabid anime fangirl while he kicked your asses right here in this yard. I was the one who slept with him, who appealed to his perverse sexual interests, who got his attention and brought on this obsession. And since I'm the reason this mess fell on you guys, it's only fair that I do anything I can to help out."

"Don't be ridiculous," Link said with a scoff. "You don't owe us anything, Vick – Wesker is an asshole, and this is personal for all of us now. None of us have ever lost a fight so badly before. We'll do whatever it takes to make sure the outcome of the second fight is drastically different."

_And the second fight will be the last,_ Lucario added. _You can be assured of that._

"Regardless," Vick broke back in stubbornly, "I'm doing this. You can't change my mind. I'm not gonna just sit around like I'm dead weight and watch you guys get hurt. I'm gonna be proactive and do something about it. Like I said, I know this isn't much, but…"

"Vick – " Falco started imploringly, but she cut him off with a plaintive expression.

"Please," she whispered desperately. "Teach me everything you can. Let me do my part."

Link, Falco, Lucario, and Yami all exchanged a look that was part concern and part skeptism, but it was Wolf who changed their minds, saying, "We've all experienced that moment in our lives when we needed to contribute to a greater cause. This is her moment. She's got to prove that she's worth a damn – even though we all know already that she is."

The others were nodding along by the time Wolf had finished, shooting Vick half-smiles of encouragement, and it was apparent that the issue was settled when Link at last said, "Alright, I guess it's decided – starting tomorrow, Vick, we'll start teaching you everything we know."

"Yeah, but you can't be a nancy about it," Falco added with a playful wink. "The second you start bitching about breaking a nail or something, I quit."

* * *

><p>Inside Brawlers Mansion, oblivious to the events unfolding in the backyard, a knock sounded on Midna's door. Though it was nearly three o' clock in the morning the Twilight Princess was sitting on the extreme edge of her mattress, her hands folded neatly in her lap, facing the door and waiting with a mixture of patience and anticipation in her eyes. The moment she heard the knock she rose and padded sinuously to answer it, the smallest smirk of victory curling up one corner of her luscious lips.<p>

Marth was on the other side of the door looking quite disheveled, his hair rumpled as though he had attempted to sleep and failed miserably, his face a tumult of emotions ranging everywhere from discomfort to intrigue to self-loathing. He swayed a little on the spot – inebriated from the earlier game of truth or dare, Midna silently decided – but he showed no sign of bolting away down the hall.

Midna leaned the majority of her weight against the open door, crossing her legs at the ankle. "What brings you here?"

"Shut up," snapped Marth irritably, and Midna rocked back a little, momentarily stunned. Marth started pacing up and down the hallway, his bare feet making no noise as he moved, and as he paced his frustration leaked out in the form of words. "Look, I don't know what you did to me. This makes no sense, and frankly, I'm scared to death. This isn't me. I don't do things like this. Like, ever."

"Could you be more specific?" Midna asked, though she was fairly certain she knew what he was referring to.

"You kissed me!" Marth hissed, seeming horrified at the memory, but something was off about his voice and his face did not reflect his tone. "_Me_! Arguably the biggest queer in this entire household! And Falco does fashion, come on, that's a pretty gay guy – "

"What's your point?" Midna drawled, already growing bored with the exiled prince's whining.

Marth stepped right up to Midna, his eyes now dark and wild and determined; she could feel his hot breath upon her face, and it set her flesh smoldering. "My point is that I'm not supposed to feel this way. I'm not supposed to like how it felt. I should be asleep." He ran a hand through his hair, further mussing the cobalt strands. "I'm not supposed to be thinking about you."

There was an awkward silence, during which the two simply stared at one another. Then Midna closed the distance between them and seized Marth's face with both of her hands, fastening her lips over his in another heated kiss. Her lips curved just a little as she kissed him; already the muscles in his face seemed devoid of their earlier tension, and there wasn't a single thing about Marth's posture that suggested he was opposed to what was happening at all. After a moment she stepped back, her jade eyes twinkling, and Marth blew out a tremendous sigh.

"Yeah, that," he reiterated, his voice husky. "I'm not supposed to like it."

"But you do," Midna finished.

"Yeah, I do. A lot."

"Wanna do it again?" Midna offered lightly.

Marth stepped past her and into her bedroom. "Yeah, I think I do."

"Fair enough." And Midna closed the door.


	21. The One With Vick's First Brawl

Marth lay perfectly still for over an hour the next morning, long enough to watch the drawn white window shade brighten to a soft pink with the sunrise and blaze a buttery yellow when day broke in full. At this point he had fully expected to suffocate himself with a pillow, or burst into a fit of tears, or even attempt to choke the life from the comely ebony enchantress currently slumbering upon his right arm – the most shocking realization of all was knowing that the strangest thing about all he had done was that it hadn't felt strange at all. There was no sense of impending doom, no signs of a panic attack coming on, and certainly no feeling of self loathing; all he really felt at the moment was an almost overwhelming sense of relaxation, and exhaustion, and an odd feeling of peace.

He turned his head to one side to find a pair of almond-shaped jade eyes watching him, and Midna stroked one hand down his chest lazily and smiled a sleepy little half smile. Marth swallowed past his suddenly-thudding heart.

"Er," he mumbled lamely, "hi."

Midna giggled huskily. "How much do you remember?"

"Oh," Marth exhaled with a laugh of his own. "I remember every second. You?"

"Ditto." Her eyes narrowed a fraction, suspicion evident through the shield of her eyelashes. "How drunk were you?"

"Drunk enough that I knew I wanted to do it," Marth admitted, and then added, "not so drunk that you should feel guilty about taking advantage."

Midna's next smile was so broad that every single one of her perfect white teeth were visible. "Well that's the perfect amount!" Then she tousled his hair playfully with one of her dark hands and they laughed aloud together, until Marth shifted the arm she lay upon and tugged her onto his chest. They lay there nose-to-nose for a few moments, still smiling as though they hadn't a care in the world, and then their lips met and time had no meaning as it passed for a little while.

An hour later Midna curled up against Marth's side again, her breathing still quickened but slowing, and Marth encircled her body with one pale arm and attempted to shoot a balled-up condom wrapper basketball-style into the wastebasket across the room. Midna snickered when the wrapper fell well short of its mark, and then laughed again when Marth noticed the four other identical wrappers it fluttered to a rest next to.

"Four?!" he gasped out, swiveling his head to glance at the woman lying beside him, and Midna winked roguishly.

"Five, if you want to get super technical and count the one from two minutes ago," she snickered, and she gestured to the crumpled wrappers strewn about the floor, adding, "I see that your aim hasn't improved much now that you're sober. Don't ever try to get into sports, okay? I have a feeling it wouldn't be a particularly lucrative career choice for you."

Marth fumed, and then jutted his lower lip out in a pout when Midna slid out of bed and took her feet. He watched silently, not protesting as she wrapped a clean white towel around her body, and settled for asking the obvious question when she took her first step toward the door. "Where are you going?"

"I need a shower," she confessed, crossing the room to sit on the mattress beside him. Marth immediately wound his arms around her waist, and they collapsed into a tangle of limbs as she finished, "And if I don't get some food in me I'm going to gnaw your arm off."

"Oh," Marth answered, and his face fell a little before he hitched another smile onto his face. "Okay."

It occurred to Midna then that the man she had just seduced five times in the past six hours was not the kind of man she was used to being with; generally she involved herself privately with men who were all muscle and no brains. Marth was quite the opposite of that – he was lean like a swimmer, not muscular like a body builder; he was introspective and intellectual and, perhaps most importantly of all, he had _feelings_. And right now he was undoubtedly recalling how his previous relationship had gone up in flames, and how this encounter was rapidly shaping up to be a one night stand. Marth was more fragile than most men – he wore his heart on his sleeve, left himself open for heartache, and had no interest in self-protecting if that meant missing out on being with someone. She found that she admired him for that – after all, she could only count the people that she genuinely trusted on one hand. Maybe she wasn't sure what was going on between them, but Midna had never been one for random sexual encounters and knew that Marth made her feel giddy and weightless – something she hadn't felt in a very long time.

She socked him in the face with a pillow that had fallen upon the floor. "You know, you could stand to take a shower yourself. Why don't you come with me? Besides, you've got to be famished too, right?"

Marth's answering smile showed his relief, and his excitement. "Starving." So he tumbled out of bed, yanked his boxer shorts into place, and they tiptoed out of the room hand in hand.

* * *

><p>Link was manning the stove with Kirby when Lucario padded into the kitchen, talking good-naturedly with Blaze and Meta Knight over his shoulder while he flipped pancakes. Lucario paused in the open wooden frame, his amber eyes wide with a kind of pleasant surprise when Link skirted around Kirby and handed him a clean white plate. Seemingly as an afterthought Link pulled Lucario into a kind of awkward one armed hug, and Lucario was certain that Link might kiss him on the cheek, but the Hylian seemed to grow too embarrassed at the last moment and drifted away. "Good morning."<p>

_Good morning yourself._ Lucario watched while Link expertly flipped another pancake with his spatula, and laughed when Kirby chattered appreciatively and applauded with his characteristic childlike enthusiasm. _What's the occasion?_

"Felt like a good day to make breakfast." Link shoveled four pancakes onto Lucario's plate with a smile that was half happiness and half embarrassment. "Syrup?"

_I'll get it_, Lucario assured with a chuckle. _You look quite busy._ This was hardly an understatement – Kirby was mixing pancake batter with a whisk so enthusiastically that he was flecking the wooden cabinets with droplets of stray batter, the griddle Link was manning was almost overflowing with pancakes, and the apron tied haphazardly around Link's waist had come loose and was now riding low on his hips. Lucario paused, considering, and then laid his breakfast plate upon the counter and moved up behind Link. _Your apron is loose. Let me get it for you._ And he tugged the apron back into place using its strings and tied a swift but secure bow against the small of Link's back.

When Link turned back to thank him, his face was the color of the setting sun. "Hey… thanks."

_My pleasure._ Lucario cast him a brief eyes only smile, and then Vick stalked into the kitchen looking like a woman on a mission.

"You!" she snapped, setting one hand upon her hip and jabbing her index finger in Lucario's direction. "I'm gonna need your help, so don't go too far after breakfast, okay?"

Lucario watched as Vick accepted two pancakes from Link, then he followed her to the table and took up a seat between her and Meta Knight. _Of course, but what is it that you need?_

Vick smothered her pancakes in butter and maple syrup, poured herself a half glass of grape juice, and instantly dug in. "I'm taking sniper lessons from Wolf in half an hour, but I wondered if you would teach me how to use Aura when he's done with me. Given that I'm still alive to learn anything else, that is."

Meta Knight choked on a forkful of pancake, and could only voice his opinion after Blaze had thumped him on the back hard enough to dislodge the lump of pastry caught in his throat. "What is this? You are going to attempt to tap into your Aura?"

Vick glanced at Meta Knight, whose faceplate somehow managed to look skeptical, then at Lucario, whose expression was one of deep concern, and said, "What, like it's hard or something?"

Lucario chewed a mouthful of pancake thoughtfully, not quite meeting her eyes when he explained, _Victoria – _

"Vick."

_- If learning how to get in touch with and harness a person's natural Aura was simple, everyone in this household would have learned to do it months ago. It is among the most common of all innate powers, for every living creature possesses Aura to a certain degree, but it is also among the rarest of abilities because it is nearly impossible to utilize as a weapon. Guardians of Aura have never been plentiful, and to my knowledge only a few dozen of them yet remain in existence. I have long been of the opinion that in a few decades, Aura will be little more than a myth._

Vick laid her fork aside and dabbed at her mouth with a napkin, looking thoughtful. Link put his back to the stove and turned his attention upon the conversation unfolding at the kitchen table, and Kirby even stopped mixing pancake batter for a moment to listen in. Vick leaned across the table in Lucario's direction. "I've only seen you use your Aura before… Honestly, I don't know anything about it. Where does it come from? How do you use it?"

Lucario glanced over his shoulder at Link as Meta Knight and Kirby lowered their gazes to the floor; their eyes met for a long moment, both of them wearing an expression that suggested they were simultaneously recalling a painful memory. They remembered well the final battle against Tabuu – a battle that had occurred only about a year ago – in which Lucario's Aura had blazed stronger than ever before; truth be told the power was so strong, and so uncontrollable, that Lucario had had no choice but to tap into his own life energy just to sustain it. They recalled this instance so well because Lucario had almost given his life just to hold Tabuu at bay.

"Am I missing something?" Vick asked, interrupting their private recollections, and Lucario swallowed delicately before abandoning his fork in favor of the conversation.

_When utilized correctly, Aura is easily the mightiest force known to this world,_ Lucario explained. _That being said, it is far too dangerous for many to attempt. Aura comes from within – the forces needed to properly wield it come at a high price, until such time as a person learns to tap into it at will. Deepest despair, ultimate loss, desperate need… these are the emotions that a person must harness in order to use their Aura to its fullest potential. Believe me… I know._ Lucario finished by shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"You know?" Vick echoed, not understanding. "But… why? How?"

_I almost lost everything,_ Lucario finished quietly. _There is no better way to access the hidden potential within oneself, than to glimpse the hollow shell of your life after all that truly matters to you has been taken away._

In response to Vick's startled expression Link cleared his throat and said, "Wesker and Legato aren't the first guys to almost destroy our entire worlds. Just last year we were up against something that we almost couldn't make it through… it wasn't our finest hour as a group."

Amazingly, Link and Lucario's words had quite a different effect on Vick than they were expecting. "But don't you see? _This_ is why I have to learn how to use it! I almost lost all of you… I know what that feels like!" She finished by fixing Lucario with a pained expression. "Please… just one lesson. And if I'm terrible, I won't bug you about it again, I swear." She whipped her head back and forth between Link, who looked opposed, and Lucario, who appeared to be considering the idea against his better judgment, and cried, "Oh for Christ's sake, you'd think I was asking one of you to rob the Taj Mahal or something! What's the problem?!"

Finally, Lucario heaved a great sigh and dug back into his breakfast; his eyes upon Vick were overprotective but still somehow proud. _…Alright. ONE lesson. I will teach you all that I can, but I warn you: it would be better for you to excel in a skill other than the use of Aura. This force is beyond many, and for many it asks too much. There is a great deal of danger involved in learning what I have to teach._

"Guess I need a few more pancakes, then," Vick chided, just as Link approached the table and shoveled three more fresh pancakes onto her plate. "If I'm gonna die, I at least wanna die with a full stomach."

Meta Knight leaned forward to address Vick just as Yami, Falco, and Sonic wandered into the kitchen and started loading their plates with pancakes. "If you are so keen on learning what we have to teach, I would be more than happy to teach you the basics of the sword – provided that is a skill you would like to have at your disposal, of course."

Vick grinned. "If I have the hand-eye coordination to sling two mixed drinks at once, I think I could do okay with a sword. Sure! Let's try it."

"The key difference here is that bottles don't have a pointy end that you could impale yourself on," Link laughed, and several of the others chuckled along. "You might need somebody a little closer to your height and build to practice with… How about this? Meta can be your teacher and I can be your sparring partner?"

"Works for me." Vick turned her attention upon Falco, Yami, and Sonic as they drew chairs up closer to the kitchen table. "How about you guys? Anything useful I could learn from you that you wouldn't mind teaching me?"

"I don't think running at super speed is a skill that can be taught," Sonic said, puffing out his chest proudly.

"And you already know how to play Duel Monsters," Yami reminded. "There is little more you could learn from me."

Falco crossed his arms and tilted his head to one side. "Wolf mentioned that he was giving you firearms basics… there isn't much you'll need from me, either. He's the best. Just don't tell him I said that."

Vick glanced into the kitchen at the green numbers shining dimly on the microwave and took note of the time as she stood, crossing to the dishwasher and loading her plate and utensils. "Well, I'm gonna grab a change of clothes and get to the roof then. Wolf will probably be along in another thirty minutes or so and I imagine he'll plug me between the eyes if I'm late."

"He is kind of a punctual bastard," Link agreed, and when Vick gave them a little finger wave and headed toward her room the Hylian stuffed one last mouthful of pancake into his own mouth before rinsing his plate beneath the stream from the faucet. "We oughta get ready too, Meta, I'd love time to polish my sword and run through a few warm-up maneuvers with you before she's ready to train with us."

"Agreed." Meta Knight hopped down from his chair and stood in the entryway to the kitchen while Link loaded his plate into the dishwasher, but the Hylian held up one finger to indicate that he wasn't quite ready.

"One last thing." Link swiped impatiently at the few strands of hair that had fallen into his eyes as he rounded the counter into the dining room, his expression only slightly nervous as he circled the table to where Lucario sat; placing both hands upon Lucario's narrow shoulders he leaned down and pressed his lips swiftly to the side of Lucario's face. Though the moment wasn't particularly intimate the others knew how much the brief display of affection must have embarrassed Link, and just how much willpower it had taken for him to act on his feelings in front of them – Blaze and Yami couldn't help but gasp aloud, and Kirby uttered a soft "Ooooooo" from near the stove.

Link drew back just enough to catch Lucario's eye, smiled a little shyly, and murmured, "Your fur is really, really soft, you know." As if to accentuate this statement he caressed Lucario's other cheek gently with his bare fingertips, and then he withdrew and exited with Meta Knight at his side.

Lucario's face reddened like the setting sun; Sonic, Falco, and Yami exploded into a fit of laughter, and Blaze giggled politely into the back of her hand. They were still chuckling at Lucario's expense as they helped Kirby tidy the kitchen, and as Sonic dashed out the patio door into the backyard and Yami yanked Falco out of the kitchen by the wrist Blaze turned back just long enough to look Lucario in the eye and say, "I know I shouldn't interfere, but my friend… I have never seen you as happy with Mewtwo as you seem when you are with Link."

Then she followed Sonic outside with Kirby clinging to her shoulders, leaving Lucario standing alone in the kitchen with his eyes twinkling with pride.

* * *

><p>Wolf had made himself at home when Vick walked into her bedroom; he was sprawled out on her bed, swishing his long tail languidly and tossing a remote detonator from hand to hand like it was a baseball. His rifle, an impressive Zonessian custom rapid-fire model with a mounted scope and an infrared setting, was propped up against her bedside table. Despite his relaxed posture Vick could see the unrelieved tension in his face; she shut the door behind her and cocked an eyebrow. "What happened to meeting on the roof?"<p>

The lupine sat up. "There's something I didn't tell anybody before, about the night that I caught Akabane in our house before we knew who the hell he was."

"The night you woke up to Link spooning you?" Vick wondered aloud, and wrapping her arms around her stomach she shook with silent laughter. Wolf glowered at her.

"I'd rather not talk about that, but yeah." He was on his feet now, rifle forgotten as he padded forward and pitched his voice low so as not to be heard by anyone who might be lurking on the other side of the closed door. "The phone rang at about four thirty in the morning – I caught Fox on the phone with somebody."

Vick's eyes widened slightly – she remembered well the day she and Lucario had brought Mewtwo and Fox home with them, and the passionate mauling Fox had fallen prey to at Wolf's hands. It was clear to everyone that lived under the roof of Brawlers Mansion that taciturn Commander O'Donnell had a soft spot in his callused heart for the leader of the Star Fox mercenaries. "Who?"

Wolf shook his head. "That's the trouble – the voice was familiar as hell, but I couldn't place it. Been beating myself up the last couple of weeks trying to put my finger on it." The lupine's face grew serious as he looked Vick in the eye. "Which is why I need to ask you… I need you to run interference for me. I'm gonna sneak into Fox's room and see if he's left any clues behind as to what the hell's going on in his life, and I need you to guard the door while I snoop around."

This seemed reasonable to Vick, who had absolutely no tolerance for the sort of behavior Fox had been exhibiting toward Wolf for the past several weeks. Fidelity in a relationship was sacred to her, and it sounded as though that was what Wolf was questioning. "Of course I'll do it, but… why me?"

Wolf reached around her and cracked the door open, glancing up and down the hall as he muttered, "You're the only one I can trust enough to do this for me."

Vick's face split into a smile of pride and then she was slipping out the door, shadowing Wolf down the hall and up the stairs to the second floor. Midna's door was closed and no sound emitted from the other side, but Falco's door at the end of the hall stood open and the avian's voice, accompanied by Yami's and Sonic's, wafted down the hall toward them. Wolf dropped into a crouch and tried the door that would take him into Fox's room, but the knob refused to turn.

"Locked," Wolf grumbled, and his single blue eye flitted in Vick's direction. "We sure he's not home?"

"The Fiat is gone." Fox had had no trouble replacing the Camaro he had lost in the tornado just outside of Mute City; he had simply dipped into his savings and splurged on a rather pricey Italian car. "He's probably at Black Sapphire."

Wolf had extracted a small handful of thin silver tools wrapped in a black velvet cloth and was inserting one into the lock just below the doorknob when he said, "Yeah, or he's busy fucking Joe Cell Phone right under my nose." In the lupine's dexterous fingers the simple lock clicked open in a matter of seconds, and he slipped inside with Vick on his heels. "Thought I told you to watch the door?"

Vick flipped the lock with her finger, ensuring that they wouldn't be interrupted. "No point watching the door if it's locked."

"Fair enough." Wolf wrapped the assortment of lockpicks back into its velvet cloth and tucked the small bundle back into a little used breast pocket. "Try not to make a mess – McCloud has always been kind of a preppy neat freak. Just look for anything that doesn't belong."

Immediately they fell over Fox's personal effects, of which there weren't many – Wolf was right about Fox's neatness, which bordered on obsessive compulsive disorder. As Vick was pawing through the vulpine's sock drawer she felt compelled to ask, "Where did you learn to pick locks? That took you about three seconds to open."

Wolf had propped Fox's closet open and was thumbing through the stacks of flight magazines that were stacked on one of the shelves, meticulously organized by print date. "Remember that jab I took at Falco that one time, about Cornerian-run prisons having really shitty security?"

"Yeah – he didn't seem to find that very funny." Vick slammed the top drawer of the dresser and moved on to the next one.

"That's because it was true, and it pissed Falco off. Long-standing orders on both sides are generally to kill war criminals on sight, but at a certain point in the chain of command the higher ups actually prefer the criminal in question be detained for questioning. The mercenaries of Star Fox and Star Wolf all fall into this category, and I've always been a little more cavalier with my life than my employer would like."

"You fall into enemy territory often," Vick summarized, dropping down to her knees and rummaging under Fox's bed now.

"Damn straight." Wolf moved on to Fox's desk, which was crammed in a corner of the room and strewn with various documents. "I figured out after my second or third detainment that I was gonna have to come up with some way to bail my own ass out or my wingmates were gonna start leaving me to rot in a Cornerian dungeon somewhere, so I picked up a set of lockpicks at a space station on the fringe and got to practicing. So far they haven't invented the prison I can't break myself out of."

Vick flipped her hair over one shoulder and blew out a sigh, leaning back on her heels as she decided on another place to search. "That's pretty badass. Do you think that's something I should learn?" When Wolf didn't immediately answer she glanced up to find him leaning over the desk, clutching a small slip of paper in one hand. "Wolf?"

The lupine rounded on her, gesturing wildly with the note as he spoke. "This doesn't make any sense. Why in the hell would he have this?"

Vick scrambled upright and peered over his shoulder; a phone number had been scrawled in a cramped and untidy hand, but nothing more. "You know whose number this is?"

Wolf practically tore his small silver cell phone from its hip holster and tapped the contacts icon, and after scrolling through a brief list he highlighted the exact number that had been written on the scrap of paper and clicked it open. Beneath the number, listed in plain black letters, was the name _Leon Powalski_. "This is Powalski's private cell number. He only gives this number to his personal business clients."

Vick lifted one pale blonde eyebrow in curiosity. "Clients?"

The lupine's hand fell limply to his side, the cell phone still clutched limply in his fingers. "Guess you weren't around when I told this story the first time… Leon picks up a lot of side jobs in the offseason operating as a professional Dom in BDSM circles. This number… it's the one he only gives to submissives he meets when they've indicated that they'd be interested in meeting with a Dom in a private place for some one-on-one play."

Vick digested this information silently before laughing out loud. "And you think _Fox_ is one of Leon's clients?! Get real, Wolf! They're on opposing sides! The last time they were face to face you guys practically had to tie Fox down just to keep him from tearing Leon's throat out! Do you really believe that your boyfriend is subbing to your former wingmate, for Christ's sake?!"

But Wolf was still staring bitterly at the phone number on the scrap of paper as though he hadn't heard a single word she'd said. He didn't even look up when he growled, "Get out."

"What?"

"I said, get out. I need to figure this out and I wanna be alone when I do it. Get lost."

Vick backed away slowly and slunk back into the hallway, stung a little by Wolf's words but doing her best not to take them to heart. The instant the door clicked shut behind her Wolf snatched the wireless home phone from its cradle on Fox's nightstand and made himself at home on the floor with his back to the wall. The first call he placed was from the Brawlers Mansion landline, direct to Fox's business cell phone.

The vulpine picked up midway through the third ring. "Wolf! What's up?"

Wolf did his best not to be fooled by the joy in Fox's voice. Worst case scenario, the young enemy commander had been sexually involved with Wolf's only real confidante for God-knows-how-long. Even if he was innocent of that, he had a lot of explaining to do as far as Wolf was concerned. "You tell me. Wanna start explaining?"

Fox paused, seemingly puzzled. Wolf imagined the gears in Fox's head turning frantically. "Explaining?"

"Yeah – things like, why the hell are you never home? Where the hell do you spend all your time these days?" And before he could stop them, the words were tumbling out of Wolf's mouth as though he had rehearsed them. "You show up here a few weeks ago and suddenly you're like a ghost. You don't eat meals with us, you never train with us, you couldn't have been more uninterested when Vick went missing. So I hope you've got a good excuse, and it better be better than 'I've been building spacecraft day and night' because I don't buy that for a second."

"Whoa, Wolf, calm down!" Was it just Wolf's imagination, or did Fox sound unnerved now? "I know you haven't seen much of me lately, and I'm really sorry… It's just that Black Sapphire has got me on a huge job right now, and I've been working 'round the clock – "

"Oh, I'm sure you have." In his free hand Wolf now lifted his cell phone, which was still displaying Leon's private cell number, and tapped the call button with his thumb. With the landline phone still pressed firmly to his right ear Wolf clearly heard the moment that another phone began chiming coolly in the background, the scramble as Fox covered the receiver and hissed something unintelligible to someone else, and the mirthless laughter of a third party that Wolf knew all too well.

Leon answered after two rings – almost as though he had been expecting Wolf's call. When he spoke, Wolf heard his voice through both telephone speakers he held. "Hello Wolf. I can imagine you have quite a lot to say to me."

Fox was now shouting without making any effort to cover the receiver. "Master! What are you – "

That was when Wolf began to laugh – long, loud, straight from his belly laughs that shook his entire torso and forced him to throw his head back to the heavens, laughs that made him sound like a deranged maniac but somehow made him feel hollow on the inside. Leon was considerate enough to refrain from interrupting Wolf's manic, mirthless laughter, and when Wolf was quite finished he got down to business. "So… how long has this been going on?"

Leon paused – checking a calendar, perhaps, just to be as precise as he could manage. It was all ridiculous and so very wrong. "Fox approached me after a seminar almost three weeks ago. He contacted me to confirm our first official meeting the night that I helped Akabane fight off Wesker and Legato in the alley behind The Shadow."

Wolf chuckled to himself, shaking his head at his own stupidity. "The very same day I called and asked you to follow Fox around because he'd started acting fishy… Goddammit. I really am a dense son of a bitch. Right under my nose… Maybe everybody's right. Maybe I am getting soft."

Fox could be heard in the background, pleading for Leon to refrain from divulging anymore and begging Wolf to talk to him, but he was ignored by both parties. Leon's voice was as detached and businesslike as ever when he told Wolf, "I want you to know that this experience means absolutely nothing to me. A job is a job, just as it always has been. This is strictly business. And despite the fact that I can no longer call you Commander, I still respect you as much as I always have."

"I'll make a deal with you." Tired now of Fox's pathetic pleas, Wolf disconnected the landline and focused solely on his conversation with Leon. "You end your business contract with McCloud and I'll hire you back on at Star Wolf. Full benefits and tenure. Job security for life."

There was no reason Wolf could see why Leon should refuse such a generous proposal. The chameleon had been a soldier of fortune for as long as he and Wolf had been acquainted, selling his services to the highest bidder, moving on when opportunity knocked elsewhere, never allowing himself to form any sort of attachment with anyone that he met. As a matter of fact, Leon had long maintained that Wolf was his single greatest weakness in life; in many ways their outlook was the same, as were many of their morals and ethics, and despite the fact that they both entertained employment in a field in which any sort of emotional attachment often meant a swift downfall they had enjoyed one another's camaraderie for years. Leon was paid very handsomely for his services to Star Wolf, and Wolf always did his part to ensure that his friend and confidante was given all that he ever asked for in return for his loyal service to him. They both knew that the only way Leon would refuse the offer was if he truly cared about Fox, and the odds of that happening were on par with Wolf's chances of singlehandedly securing peace and prosperity for the entirety of the Lylat System.

Leon cleared his throat and shifted his cell phone, and his next words were a bit muffled – Wolf had the feeling that his associate was speaking more to Fox now. "Consider our, ah, _arrangement_ terminated from here on, Commander McCloud. My mercenary commander has just made me an offer that I would be foolish to refuse."

"Wait a second!" howled Fox in the background, his voice constricted with sudden emotion. "You can't just – "

A cold bout of laughter served as Leon's interruption, so merciless that Fox's protests died on the air. "I can do whatever I want to, you foolish boy – have you forgotten that in this arrangement, I make the rules?" The phone shifted again, and Leon spoke directly into the receiver. "Would you prefer it if I took McCloud out of the equation now, Commander O'Donnell? I have a feeling that he isn't going to be particularly agreeable in this situation."

As appealing as the idea sounded, Wolf found himself declining almost at once. "No – every bounty hunter for the Loyalists would come banging down your door the second that General Pepper caught wind of the fact that you snuffed his top sellsword in between contracts. Best to leave it til our contracts have been renewed and then shoot him out of the sky."

"As you wish. Always good doing business with you, Wolf."

"I'll be in touch." Wolf jammed a button with his thumb, and the connection was severed. He dropped the paper with Leon's cell number carelessly on the floor – what the hell did he need it for, anyway? – and tossed the handheld landline onto Fox's neatly-made bed. Standing in the center of the room he inhaled deeply through his muzzle and exhaled slowly through his open mouth, struggling to control his mounting rage and slow the thundering of his heart.

His cell phone rang - the caller ID read _Fox McCloud_. Wolf put his back to the door and leaned there, grateful for the support, as he accepted the call.

For the first few seconds there was only silence, for Wolf couldn't sort through his thoughts quickly enough to piece together a coherent sentence. When Fox realized that the call had gone through, though, he saved Wolf the trouble. "Wolf, please! Don't do this! I never meant for any of this to happen! I screwed up, okay? I made a mistake!"

Wolf barked out a single helpless laugh, ignoring the sudden burning sensation behind his normal working eye. "You're damn right you did, but it doesn't matter. I know I'm a far cry from the world's most eligible bachelor, but I rank right at the top of the list for the most stupidly loyal bastards you'll ever find. Why else would I have stayed with you all this time, even knowing that my contract would be permanently terminated with a big fat 'unfit to serve' on it?"

"I care about you, Wolf. I would never intentionally hurt you."

The words sounded so sweet, so sincere, that Wolf almost went back on his word and gave Fox another chance. Then he remembered that he had a very valid reason for never giving second chances – because he always got burned even worse the second go round.

He hung his head but spoke with conviction. "Don't come back here. I'll throw your shit on the lawn for you to pick up. I know I told Leon not to kill you, but I can't make the same promise – if you show your face in this house, I just might put a bullet between your eyes."

"What gives you the right to kick me out?!" Fox shrieked indignantly, and Wolf chuckled again.

"It goes back to that stupidly loyal thing, Fox. These guys, they're like my brothers; they're the family I never had, and right now they need me. That chick Vick needs me too, and I'm not gonna let her down. This is the first time in my life I've taken a job with no promise of reward, and I'm gonna see it through til the end. That means you can't ever come back, capiche?"

"What?!"

"I stand by what I said before," Wolf interjected. "You show your face around here, it's your funeral." And he disconnected without another word, dropping the phone to the floor with a soft _thunk_, covering his face with his hands and doing his best to ignore the unexplainable dampness he felt upon his fingertips. He stood there for several minutes, focusing on the rhythm of his breathing, half expecting the phone to ring again. He assumed Fox would be persistent. He was certain that his on-again off-again lover would find some way to profess his feelings, would do everything in his power to win back Wolf's affections.

The phone never rang.

* * *

><p>Lucario wandered out into the backyard to find Link, Marth, Midna, Blaze, Meta Knight, and Kirby grouped around the seldom-used in ground swimming pool. As he made his way toward them he assumed that all was normal, but as he drew closer he became aware of more than one angry voice wafting toward him; by the time he reached them it had become apparent that there was a full-fledged argument brewing, and that two sides had developed.<p>

"Do you even realize what you're suggesting?!" exclaimed Blaze, in a voice that was as close to fury as they had ever heard. "She has spirit, yes, but a brawl? On her _very first day_?!"

"She had the freedom to choose," said Meta Knight calmly, "yet with all of you as my witnesses she agreed to the terms."

Marth was holding up his hands helplessly as though there was only one clear course of action for them to take. "We have no way of knowing how much time we have – best to give her the best possible training _now_, before things really start to get serious."

Midna was nodding along. "She had the chance to refuse."

By this time, Lucario had joined them. _What in the world is the matter?_

Link slid to one side of the pool recliner he was occupying, and Lucario happily sat beside him as the Hylian offered an explanation. "We were just chatting with Vick about how to proceed with today's training, and Meta decided that throwing her into a brawl on her first day sounded like a totally genius idea." He ended by shooting a disapproving glare at Meta Knight, who merely shrugged his shoulders as though he had done nothing worth arguing over.

_Did you really do this?_ Lucario asked.

"Of course I did," Meta Knight confirmed. "What better way is there for us to teach her? If she is really serious about learning to protect herself – and I believe that she has made her stance on the matter quite clear – then we cannot afford to waste her time in simple training sessions. We are all in agreement that she should take the time to learn the basics, of course, but before this day comes to a close I believe that it would be beneficial to her if she tested her newfound abilities in combat."

Lucario's eyes were flat black, and by the time Meta Knight had finished explaining the Pokemon's pale blue Aura was shimmering around him. _Out of the question. Victoria is a human woman with no extraordinary talents to speak of, Meta Knight. Such a situation can only end badly. She will certainly be hurt._

Midna picked up the dainty margarita glass she had discarded on a poolside table when the argument had started to gain momentum and sipped thoughtfully at the piña colada she had made. "Who's to say she'll get hurt? Just because Vick has never burst into flames or displayed the ability to run at mach speed doesn't mean that she _can't_, Lucario. We have to give her the chance to show us what she can do before we can truly assess her abilities. She's a human woman who comes from a normal human background, yes, but how many of us came from the most mundane situations imaginable and became a hero simply because there was no other choice?"

A decidedly uncomfortable silence followed this question before Link finally leaned forward and admitted, "I know I did."

"So did I," said Marth, looking sheepish. "My greatest aspiration in life was to just run away from my responsibilities – something it turns out you can never outrun."

"And you two aren't the only ones," Midna continued. "At least half of us have a similar story. The point is this – heroes aren't born, they're made. Vick is ready and willing to become the next one, but she needs us to work hard and teach her everything we can. Every time we fight, somebody walks away hurt. We all have to accept the fact that one day, Vick will be that person. And I know that she means a lot to all of us, but we can't let the way that we feel about her keep us from doing what's right."

Meta Knight nodded his approval. "Midna is right. We must teach her without restraint."

Link, Lucario, and Blaze exchanged a glance, concern and grim acceptance apparent in their faces, and when they had reached a kind of wordless agreement Lucario asked, _Alright – it is settled, then. Where is she?_

"She went back in the house looking for Wolf," Marth answered, and his cobalt eyebrows drew together a little when he added, "We're not really sure, but it seems like something is wrong."

_With Wolf?_ Lucario asked, and Marth nodded but no one had any more information to contribute; as if in answer to their wordless questions the sliding glass door opened and Vick stepped out onto the patio, and after a moment Wolf followed with his custom rifle slung over his shoulder. As the lupine prowled across the porch and hefted himself onto the roof they scooted their pool chairs into a tighter circle and shared their thoughts at a much softer volume.

"Is it just me," Midna began in an undertone, "or is he looking even more like a crabass than usual?"

Link snickered beneath his breath. "Is that even possible?"

Lucario said nothing at first, watching Wolf's every move as the lupine thrust a hand out for Vick to take and then helped her clamber onto the roof beside him, but after a moment's musing felt compelled to add, _Marth is right. Something is wrong with Wolf._

"But what?" asked Blaze, her golden eyes slightly narrowed with concern.

"Now, unfortunately, would seem a bad time to pry," Meta Knight insisted, "for it appears their lesson is about to begin."

As if on cue, Wolf began shouting down at them – none of them imagined the added edge to his voice, further confirming their suspicions that something was amiss. "Hey, I need one of you pansy-assed momma's boys to volunteer." When no one responded, the lupine swung the rifle down from its perch on his shoulder and balanced it in both hands, adding, "Front and center! I've got a date with a bottle of Jack that I don't wanna be late for, so can we get a move on?"

"Oh hell, I'll go," sighed Marth, and with a little push from Midna he was off his pool chair and striding leisurely through the yard as he called, "What the hell could you possibly need me for? You've got your rifle, you've got your student… what else does a rifle lesson require?"

"Stop right there!" Wolf cried, and when Marth halted confusedly in the approximate center of the yard the lupine added, "A target, of course."

Marth roared as though he had been betrayed and flung himself unceremoniously to the ground, curling into a fetal position and flinging his arms over his head. Those among their group still seated around the pool howled with laughter, Wolf smirked with satisfaction, and Vick snickered into the back of her hand.

"Good, yeah, stay just like that," Wolf called down. "That way if she actually does hit you, the worst she can do is make it hell for you to sit down for a couple of weeks. No worries!" Then turning to Vick the lupine thrust the weapon out for her to take, and clutching it in her hands she fixed him with an expression not unlike one a baseball player might wear when asked to perform a triple bypass. "Okay, now don't puss out on me, cuz I'm not in the mood for it, capiche? Now listen – the butt of the rifle will rest against the inside of your right shoulder, that tender spot just off the side of your collarbone, and your left hand will go just where the grip is, midway down the barrel, see it?" Wolf moved closer, helping Vick get the rifle situated before stepping back and appraising her with a practiced eye. She was holding the rifle almost perfectly, but her stance was tense and uncertain. "Okay, now take a deep breath, babe. You're so nervous that you're starting to freak me out."

Vick inhaled deeply through her nose and exhaled through her mouth, giving her head a little shake. "Sorry. Right. Calm. Got it."

Wolf crossed his arms. "Relax the set of your shoulders. These models from Zoness have next to no kickback, but if you tense up the butt is gonna give you a nasty bruise after a few shots. The key here is to take your time; snipers are generally the people that are furthest away from where combat gets hottest, and I've waited hours to take a single shot in some cases. So instead of cracking off the first shot you get, _wait for it_. Take a deep breath, or whatever is gonna give you the extra little spurt of patience you're going to need for this. Being behind the barrel of a sniper rifle is different than any other firearm because every shot really does count."

"No pressure," Vick stammered, her voice tense with strain.

The lupine circled around to Vick's back so as not to be distracting, and she allowed her eyes to drift closed as she sucked in a long, slow, deep breath through her nose, struggling with the idea of clearing her mind so that she could take her best shot at a friend of hers.

The very idea that she was about to cause bodily harm to someone that she cared for was completely and utterly ludicrous to her. She could feel Wolf's familiar presence lingering behind her in its least imposing form, silently willing her to dig deep within herself and find the courage to do what was necessary, but _how_? What if she was such a terrible shot that she didn't come anywhere close to her target, and the others never learned to take her seriously? Or worse, what if she hurt Marth? What if she was so successful that she killed him by mistake?

She was just opening her mouth to admit that she couldn't follow through with it when she heard Wolf growl, "It's gonna be alright, babe. I've got your back."

Vick opened her eyes, quietly reminded herself just why she was doing this, took careful aim through the scope, and squeezed the trigger with her index finger. The sharp crack of the rifle echoed in her ears as it fired and the butt bumped gently against her shoulder, but neither sensation was altogether unpleasant – in a way it was actually reassuring, a kind of reminder that she was at last being proactive about helping her self-proclaimed protectors and friends. The rifle bolt zipped through the air too quickly for her to track with her eyes, but when Marth yelped and leapt to his feet Vick cried out in alarm and nearly threw the weapon down in disgust.

"Holy shit! I actually hit him?!" Vick's eyes were already blurring with tears. "MARTH! Are you okay?! Oh my God I am SO sorry!"

"Goddammit!" shrieked Marth, hopping from foot to foot with both hands clapped firmly over his left butt cheek. "That smarts! Ow ow ow ow ow!"

The mansion residents still lounging poolside were in hysterics, clutching their sides and laughing uproariously; Vick was about to scream at them for being horribly insensitive when Wolf drew level with her and pulled the rifle out of her grasp, ejecting the magazine and dropping it into her disbelieving hands. Extracting a rifle round from the clip Vick held it up in front of her eyes; she wasn't necessarily an expert on firearms per se, but she had grown up in the bad part of Bullet End. She knew the sound of a nine millimeter Glock, and she knew a blank from a live when she saw one.

"Dummy rounds. Wolf, you really are a son of a bitch."

Wolf ruffled her ponytail affectionately with one hand and chuckled gruffly beneath his breath. "Square in the ass, and on your first try too… babe, I think you're a natural."

* * *

><p>Vick was preparing for her swordplay lesson with Link and Meta Knight when Lucario sensed an Aura he was completely unfamiliar with lingering a few yards into the tree line rimming the southern edge of the backyard. He knew well enough by now what Wesker's presence felt like, and he wouldn't soon forget the sensation of cold dread that had gripped his entire body the moment Legato's influence had crept into and enslaved his mind, so Lucario was confident that their group wasn't in any immediate danger – still, it was better to be safe than sorry. Excusing himself from the others he made his way across the springy grass and drew right up to the point where the forest thickened, where a smooth dark voice wafted up to meet him almost at once.<p>

"You miss nothing… It's good that she has you."

Lucario stepped beneath the jade canopy, leaving the baking sunlight and clear blue sky in favor of sweltering undergrowth and dappled patches of emerald light. The mysterious man who called himself Akabane Kuroudo was leaning against the trunk of an elder maple tree, watching Vick's lessons from afar. The fine azure furs on the back of Lucario's neck stood on end at being alone and in such close proximity to this man, the unknown entity who had gone toe to toe with Albert Wesker and lived to tell the tale, but he did not shudder and he refused to run. He kept a respectable distance, choosing an oak tree about fifteen feet away to put at his back as he sat before offering his response. _Yes… just as it's good that she has you, in a way._

Akabane raised his head a fraction, just enough for Lucario to catch a glimpse of one cold eye studying him sidelong; the dark violet hue of the pupil was mildly unsettling. "You waste your time with these meaningless training sessions. It is best not to humor the girl's ridiculous notion of standing on an even playing field with these particular adversaries – your time would be much better served in honing your own skills. From what I have seen your collective abilities are as diverse as they are impressive: if you focus your time on becoming stronger and devising strategies for better dealing with your enemies, you may have a slim chance of surviving this."

The Aura Guardian lifted a brow, feigning surprise. _You concern yourself with our well beings now?_

The scowl Akabane gave him in response was fleeting, but Lucario did not miss it. There was silence between them for half a minute or so as Akabane seethed quietly to himself and Lucario considered just how much information to divulge, but it didn't take Lucario long to make up his mind. _There is one thing we can teach Victoria that may actually be worth the time and effort… One thing that, were she to unlock its full potential, may give her the ability to stand against Wesker and Legato._

It was Akabane's turn to cock an eyebrow, not in surprise but in disdain. "You jest."

_On this matter, I wouldn't dare._

"Then tell me."

Lucario closed his eyes and retreated within himself, reaching deep into the wellspring of awe-inspiring energy that was his Aura until he felt its comforting warmth spreading all throughout his body; when next he opened his eyes he hardly felt exerted, yet the wild blue flames of his Aura blazed all around him. Akabane's unnaturally pale face looked as though it were fighting hard to remain impassive. "Ah, yes… your Aura. I have heard of such things – the harnessing of one's emotions into powerful offensive and defensive forces. A skill that all living creatures are born with, but few can actually control."

_Your understanding of Aura is surprisingly accurate,_ Lucario admitted, and though he sounded begrudging he privately admitted that he had suspected Akabane would know as much. _There are numerous known reasons why not just anyone can use Aura for this purpose – the most common among these is the fact that most living creatures simply do not possess the mastery of self that is necessary. Emotions are ever-fluctuating and nearly impossible to predict – one may be joyous one moment and overcome by grief the next, and with no warning to alert one to the change. I am an old creature – older than this body may suggest – and I can tell you that I have spent decades of my existence struggling to subdue the body's baser emotions, and bring to a head the ones I depend on most to access my Aura. Long has it been assumed that, in order to fully master one's Aura, one must first master oneself._

Akabane chuckled then, a low, dark sound that was devoid of any real mirth. "You have just listed every reason why it would be pointless for the girl to attempt to learn it. The average living creature struggles on a daily basis to remain in control of its emotions – consider the additional factors working against her in this instance. The fact that she is not only young and prone to emotional outbursts is counterproductive enough, certainly, but keep in mind that she is also a _woman_. Is there any such creature in all the world more prone to emotional instability?"

Lucario turned his eyes through the break in the trees, watching with his characteristic protectiveness as Vick engaged Link in a simple offensive sword maneuver; Meta Knight was giving her verbal instruction, but the Aura Guardian's ears could not make out the words. His eyes softened with a hint of a smile as he said, _Just this morning I thought as you do. When Victoria asked me to teach her how to tap into her Aura, I confess that I had to suppress the urge to laugh at the request, and for all of the reasons you have just given. But in the last hour I have given it a great deal of thought, and I am starting to believe that those factors may actually work in her favor._

"Then you are a greater fool than even I guessed," drawled Akabane, "for she is even more emotionally impulsive than most, with a temper as quick to flare as the flame on a match when struck. How could you ever hope to harness something so unpredictable and inconsistent into a weapon?"

Another silence stretched between them, during which Lucario's eyes bored into Akabane's with unrivaled intensity. Gradually the Pokemon's Aura died down, and when it had fully diminished Akabane at last came to understand.

_I will not. _Lucario rose but did not depart, watching now as Link easily disarmed Vick and immediately set about consoling her when her face crumpled with a sudden rush of despair. _I will not mold her into a weapon and I will certainly not restrain the way that she feels. Instead I will encourage her to use the greatest weapons at her disposal – her admirable determination, her unshakeable willpower, her everlasting courage, and perhaps the greatest of all – her loyalty and love for us. For those feelings in her are so great that she will have far more success in learning to use them to her advantage. Forcing her to sublimate them can only end in failure._

"I do not understand." Akabane's eyes were following Vick's movements now as well, though the look in his eyes was nothing akin to protectiveness and Lucario was loathe to name it. "What is so remarkable about her simple human emotions that has you so convinced that she could be successful in this?"

_Can you think of no instance that proves what I have said?_ Lucario spat, growing tired of Akabane's continued pessimism. _Was she not just as willing to sacrifice herself in All God's Village for you, a man who was barely more than a stranger to her, than she is for any one of us, her greatest friends?_

There were several instances Akabane could think of, but the entire ordeal of All God's Village felt somehow too private to share and so he chose not to divulge them. Instead he snapped, "Since when have you believed a word of that tale? The girl has told me that she confided the entire story to several of you in confidence, and that each and every one of you took her words as falsities – the ramblings of the insane. I wonder – how much longer can you pretend that her story is untrue, and that it was really I who terrorized her?"

By now Lucario was long since irritated by all that he had heard, and so he had a scathing question of his own to ask. _I wonder – how much longer can you pretend that you are here simply for the sport of battling Wesker and Legato, and not merely because you so desire Victoria's company? Calling her 'the girl' all the time and steadfastly refusing to even cross the property line but appearing in her moments of greatest need… your actions contradict themselves._

"My intentions are none of your business."

_Victoria IS my business._

They stared one another down, intense dislike apparent in their eyes, until both heard Lucario's name being called and looked up; Vick's swordplay lesson appeared to have ended with a resounding lack of success and now she was standing in the middle of the yard with Link and Meta Knight, hands on hips and looking both suspicious and slightly concerned. Lucario took a step in her direction, drawn to his best friend like a magnet with the precise opposite charge, but glanced Akabane's way almost as an afterthought. _Bear in mind that you are not the only man who vies for her affections. It wasn't long ago that Lance – by all accounts the Pokemon League Champion and a far more benevolent man than you – had a mind to ask for Victoria's hand. And though I cannot speak for Wolf, I feel obliged to tell you that the way he feels for her is more akin to passion than anything else._

"Why do you waste my time with these words?" Akabane demanded, but he failed to keep the barest trace of genuine interest from his voice.

Lucario's face grew intently serious when he confided, _Because the man whose heart is purest and whose actions are the most selfless will be the man who wins her heart in the end._ Akabane rocked back a step, taken aback by what he had heard, but Lucario didn't give him any time to recover from his shock. _Come back this evening. The brawl will take place after dinner, around seven… I have a feeling I know how it will play out, and I think that your presence will be helpful to Victoria in a way._

Akabane scowled, clearly displeased at being told what to do. "In what way?"

_Just be here. You will know precisely what to do, and when._

* * *

><p>The afternoon quickly turned into an all-out training session; Link and Meta Knight sparred together for at least an hour, and Marth and Midna quickly took up their example and did the same for almost as long. Blaze and Kirby worked well together, Sonic put himself through some very rigorous endurance exercises, and Falco collaborated with Wolf to set up a less dangerous practice range for use with their various menagerie of firearms. Lunch was also a group affair; Yami ordered Chinese takeout for everyone and they ate together around the pool, discussing the days' events and congratulating one another on jobs well done.<p>

All the residents in Brawlers Mansion turned out for Vick's Aura lesson with Lucario, but when Vick approached her best friend with a look of optimism on her face Lucario stopped her in her tracks with an upraised palm.

_Before we begin,_ Lucario addressed the group at large, _I would like to make a few requests. The first is this: all of you may stay and observe, if Victoria will not be distracted by your presence, but only if you give me your word that you will remain quiet throughout the duration of her training. It is also very important that, whatever happens from this point forward, you vow not to intervene._

"They won't bother me," Vick assured. "I'd feel better with everyone around, honestly."

The rest of them exchanged a collective glance, expressions ranging from curiosity to open alarm; since Link often found himself being recognized as their undisputed leader he asked, "Anybody have anything to say?"

"We promise, Lucario," Blaze murmured softly.

"We all trust you," Midna put in.

Wolf crossed his arms over his chest, looking even surlier than usual; his eyes were practically boring holes into Vick's back when he growled, "If you hurt her, Luca…"

"Relax, Wolf," said Vick with a little giggle and a dismissive wave of one hand. "He would never hurt me. Right, Luca?"

Lucario's face contorted strangely then, as though he was struggling within himself between two very disparate decisions; at last his expression grew noticeably more serene, though Vick noticed that his eyes had darkened to a deep crimson. Instinctively she took a small step back, but it was his reply that frightened her the most: _I cannot make that promise._

Wolf bristled, and Falco threw out an arm to hold him back; Sonic clenched his hands into fists, and Midna and Yami each clapped a restraining hand down upon one of his shoulders. Only Link seemed unconcerned by Lucario's sudden change in demeanor, which he explained away by telling them softly, "Don't. We promised. She has to learn."

Lucario nodded his appreciation in Link's direction before turning his eyes back to Vick, who by now was barely suppressing the impulse to tremble in fear. He chose to turn a blind eye, gesturing instead to the grass at his feet. _Sit._ Vick did as she was told, though her face was still tense with nervousness; once she had seated herself she glanced to him for guidance, and he continued, _Make yourself comfortable. Do as you did this morning when you were under Wolf's command, and relax yourself as best you can. When you seem calmer, we will begin._

The others took seats around the pool, patting one another's arms in reassuring manners and shooting neighbors glances of encouragement; Vick shifted so that her back was to them, and closing her eyes she inhaled and exhaled slowly and deeply. She did her best to recall the training she had gone through hours ago and how she had prepared for that, and at last remembered that only by reminding herself of her reason for participating in these exercises had she found the resolve to follow through. Silently she thought of each and every one of her friends, picturing their faces in her mind until her body felt more relaxed and her heartbeat seemed more regular than before. Opening her eyes again she nodded once at Lucario, who by then had taken a seat directly across from her and was patiently waiting for her signal to continue.

_Aura is everywhere – it is all around us. It exists in every living organism and resides in every creature we see. However, the ability to use Aura as a weapon is an intricate and complex procedure; because of the very precise balance between control and abandon that is necessary, very few beings have ever learned how to control it. _Lucario hesitated for a moment, deciding how best to proceed, before adding, _Your training will be… quite different… than mine ever was._

Vick raised one pale eyebrow. "How do you mean?"

Lucario's gaze was far away. _The man who trained me taught me to always be in control of my feelings, to never allow my emotions to breach the surface and get the better of me. But for you I feel that a different approach will be necessary; I think perhaps you would be better suited seeking the opposite emotional state that I did. If you were to focus on heightening your emotions rather than suppressing them…If there was a way to urge you into a hyper emotional state.… Well, it has never been attempted before, at least not to my knowledge, but I believe that may be our best course of action._

"I don't really get it," Vick admitted with a sheepish shrug of her shoulders. "But if you think it'll work… Just tell me what to do, and I'll try."

Lucario sat back on his heels, deliberating. Now that it was time to put his theory to the test, he wasn't at all sure how to proceed – after all, which emotion was strongest in his pupil, and how best to bring that feeling to the surface in its purest, most powerful form? He closed his mind off to all but one individual and asked the question: _How to make her feel?_

Link did very well not to react in any way – he even avoided Lucario's eyes, gazing blankly at the ground underfoot when he thought his reply. _Start off simple and make her happy. Scratch that – go for overjoyed. She has a pretty sunny disposition; you'd think it would be easy…_

_Very well._ Lucario allowed his mind to become open once more, so that all of them could hear his next words. _Victoria, I want you to focus now. Think of the happiest moments of your life, and nothing else. Recall the way those times made you feel, and bring those feelings to the surface of your mind._

Vick was nodding even as Lucario was speaking, and seeing the determination on her face they couldn't help feeling optimistic that she would be quick to make progress in the right direction. She closed her eyes again, casting her mind around for moments that fit Lucario's criteria, and so linked to Vick's psyche was Lucario that he caught fragments of her thought process and even brief flashes of images as she allowed her elation to bubble to the forefront of her mind.

_Something happy. Not my old man… probably not mom either… Toshi. The bar._

There was a brief image, crystal clear, or a younger Vick Ralis standing behind the bar at The Shadow; she was a little leaner and her face didn't carry as many lines as it now did. She was spinning a bottle in her hand, showing a few other bartenders the proper way to perform the trick, and they were gaping at her with awe. Lucario admired the clarity of the vision – almost as if he was present and seeing the events for himself, and not glimpsing them through a memory – and felt fascinated by the way Vick recalled events from earlier in her life. She didn't see the moment through her own eyes, but rather as an outsider watching herself at whatever task she was remembering. He had never known a person to imagine their own life in such a way.

The image blurred and changed, yielding a picture of a version of Vick that was more childlike even than the first. She was huddled in the alleyway behind The Shadow, in almost the precise place where she had been when Wesker had attacked her a few weeks previous; she was crouched between two trash cans and soaked to the bone as rain pelted down from above, her frail arms wrapped around herself for warmth and her teeth obviously chattering. And suddenly there was the harried owner of the bar that Lucario knew so well –Toshi – kneeling down beside her and wrapping a blanket around her. Lucario felt keenly the warmth associated with the memory, and though he watched Vick's face intently as she focused her face betrayed not a hint of emotion.

_Nothing doing – that's not good enough. Nothing is happening. What else? Something happier… The guys._

The memories came quicker then, as though Vick had so many joyous thoughts to recall that she couldn't make up her mind which to linger on. _Flash_ – Vick had a Nerf gun in her hand, and she and Wolf were pelting Link and Midna with foam darts. _Flash_ – There she was singing on stage at The Shadow, while a scantily-clad Marth danced before a crowd of shrieking women. _Flash_ – She was hurling a Poke Ball at a Sentret while Lance looked on proudly, shouting words of encouragement.

_Flash_. She was gazing blearily up at Akabane, her dislocated shoulder hanging uselessly at her side as he hefted a strange camera with his free hand and glanced down at her with fierce protectiveness in his eyes.

_Flash_. She was stumbling out of the forest, half blinded by the sun and overwhelmed by the pain in her dislocated shoulder, before falling into Lucario's arms; the others crowded around, stroking her face and calling her name with obvious love in their voices, and when the words _I'm home_ reverberated through Lucario's mind he was so taken aback by the emotion he felt there that he almost flinched away.

_Home! That's it! For the first time in my life I'm not alone, and there are people who want me! I'm loved… I belong somewhere!_

The warmth Lucario felt no longer seemed to be associated with Vick's memories, but a tangible thing that he could almost reach out and touch; with difficulty he pulled his focus away from the jumble of images flitting through his pupil's mind and forced his eyes to glimpse what was occurring in the present. Vick was still seated before him in precisely the same place she had been before, but her figure was outlined in what appeared to be a haze of silver smoke; behind her the others were staring at her with wide eyes and gaping mouths, whispering excitedly amongst themselves. Their excitement broke Vick's concentration a half second before Lucario could hiss at them to be quiet; her memories began to falter and dissolve like grains of sand slipping through her fingers, and the tighter she attempted to cling to them the swifter they faded from her recollection. Her eyes flew open, her mind processed the haze of silver Aura that was barely visible around her, and she gasped in shock –

- The Aura vanished as quickly as the memories associated with it. Vick threw up her hands in frustration, clearly disappointed, and Lucario knew that he had no choice but to be firm or risk her quitting the exercise altogether.

_That is enough! _he growled, and lurching forward he gripped her none-too-gently by the shoulders and forced her to look him in the eye. _You will NOT surrender to your frustrations and I will NOT allow you to give up, do you understand me? Do you not know the magnitude of the incredible feat you have just accomplished?!_

Vick burst into laughter. "Oh come on! I made myself happy for what, half a minute? Give me a pitcher of margaritas and the effect will last a hell of a lot longer, believe me."

Half of the mansions residents chuckled softly to themselves at this; the other half looked deathly serious. Lucario's eyes had now darkened to a flat black, the last warning sign before his Aura flared out of control. _Listen to me, Victoria. What you just saw was your Aura struggling to make itself more tangible, fighting through your negative emotions and attaching itself to the memories you brought to the forefront of your mind. Do you have any idea just how long it took me to reach the stage that you just met on your very first attempt?_

"No," Vick admitted flatly, cocking her head curiously to one side, and Lucario sighed.

_Months, Victoria. Though my intentions were pure and my determination was at times almost frightening, I showed no sign of improvement for the first three months or so. Even the slightest manifestation of Aura is a rarity for anyone in even their first month of study._ _It proves my theory about you – that we are much better served encouraging your emotions than working to sublimate them._

"So… I should try again?" Vick asked uncertainly, and that was when Lucario was accosted by another's train of thought.

_You're going about this all wrong._

Lucario glanced over Vick's shoulder to find Wolf staring pointedly in his direction, arms crossed over his burly chest and a grim sort of glitter to his single functioning eye. _How do you mean?_

Wolf rolled his eye skyward. _I mean that if you're looking to get the strongest emotional reaction you possibly can out of Vick, you're tugging at the wrong heartstring. Consider the source here – it's not like her childhood was all sunshine and roses, so quit trying to throw glitter in her eyes 'cause that's not gonna work. And don't start getting all depressing and try to make her cry, either, because that's got disaster written all over it. This chick not only had a crap childhood but she let it make her tough, not soft. You need to hit her where it counts – we all know her biggest weakness is us._

_So what are you saying?_ Lucario asked, puzzling over all Wolf had told him.

Wolf stared back for a moment, brow furrowed as he considered how best to proceed, before wondering cautiously, _Do you mind if I…?_

Lucario shrugged, now more intrigued than anything, and all eyes were on Wolf as he separated himself from the group and took his first tentative step forward. Vick's eyes were closed and her body mostly at ease, though it was clear in the set of her face that she was fully aware of the moment when Wolf knelt down behind her and brought his lips in line with her ear.

It was for the better that only Lucario and Vick heard the words that next came from Wolf's mouth.

"Imagine that you're standing here with us the night Wesker and Legato came to find you. We've spent all day preparing ourselves for what we know is coming, but we all know there's no way it'll be enough. We've all promised that we'll protect you no matter what happens – we've even sworn that if we have to die just to keep you safe, we'll all do it, no questions asked." The lupine paused for a moment, studying the profile of Vick's face that he could see, grimly pleased by the tense focus and genuine concern he found there. "That's when they show up and start decimating us. Legato's mind is more than a match for anything we have to offer, and your friends start killing each other while you stand there. You are completely powerless to stop what you see."

_Wolf – _Lucario began to protest, horrified by the all-too vivid images flashing through Vick's mind, but Wolf shook his head insistently once and continued on.

"The ranks start closing around you just like we'd all promised, but now Wesker's coming. It only takes one strike for him to tear someone's arm from their socket, or shatter someone's spinal cord… or lop the head from someone's shoulders. By the time he gets to you there are only a handful of guys left to stand up to him, so you do the only thing you can think to do… you start running.

"Behind you, Legato breaks Lucario's mind so soundly and easily that the brain damage is too severe for recovery. Link has lost so much blood that no transfusion could possibly save him now. Shadow's cracked skull has impacted his brain and his neural system is beyond repair." Vick was trembling now, biting her lip to keep from protesting, and her eyelashes were damp. "Imagine that the bullet from Wesker's gun actually killed me… imagine you never got to say goodbye.

"Imagine that everyone you have ever loved died right before your eyes, and you could do nothing but stand there and watch."

An animalistic growl tore itself from Vick's throat and her eyes flew open; her face was flushed with terror and despair, tears streaked down her cheeks, and though her eyes were wide they were empty as though she were seeing things beyond the real and present. As they watched the silver mist swirling around her grew more and more tangible, like smoke made almost solid, and Lucario and Wolf were close enough to notice the odd hue her eyes had taken on – a brighter gray than her usual storm cloud, a backlit, molten silver. She stumbled to her feet, gaze rooted upon her own hands wreathed in a kind of gray-white flame, and then her eyes flitted up and fell upon Wolf.

"Oh!" she gasped, relief flooding her face, and just as suddenly as the silvery Aura outline had framed her body it now vanished; she began to swoon from the exertion but Wolf was there, and reaching out he caught her in his arms and locked her in a strong embrace close to his chest.

"You lied to me," she mumbled, her voice partially lost in his flight jacket, and Wolf rumbled a laugh but his real reply floated through Lucario's mind.

_There's probably another way._ He didn't want to explain much further – perhaps the words were upsetting to him somehow? – and so he simply projected the desired images with his imagination. Lucario tuned in well enough despite the fact that the lupine's mind was not nearly as sharp and clear as Victoria's, though he needn't have focused too hard – the gist was easy enough to catch.

_Not now._ Their eyes met over Vick's shoulder, and Lucario shook his head sternly.

_You said yourself we can't afford to go easy on her –_

_And I don't intend to_, Lucario interrupted, _but what you suggest has already crossed my mind. It will happen tonight._

_I don't understand._ Wolf had released Vick by now; she had darted away from him and fallen upon the others, grasping their hands and stroking their faces as if to assure herself that none of them had truly been lost. _You got this planned already somehow?_

Lucario watched Vick carefully, his expression guarded, his eyes deeply speculative. Wolf was beginning to think that the Aura Guardian had no intention of answering him when Lucario at last said, _This situation is delicate, Wolf; it is more sensitive than you know. For Victoria to push through this final barrier and have the most dramatic surge of emotion she can muster, everything must be carefully thought out. Not a single detail can be overlooked. _They stood together, somehow isolated from the rest of the group as Vick seized both of Midna's hands and gushed about her success. _I need you involved in tonight's brawl – I can count on your protectiveness toward her just as much as I can count on you to be volatile when the time comes, can I not?_

The lupine smirked. _Today, volatile is kind of my middle name. Just tell me what you need done._

_That won't be necessary. _Lucario strode nearer to the pool, his signal that their private conversation was coming to a close. _You will do precisely what is needed, and at precisely the right time, I am sure._

Wolf brought up the rear, and taking Lucario's lead he addressed the group at large. "Alright, you pansy asses – let's talk brawl." A dozen mouths opened, though to protest or to volunteer Wolf would never know. "Rule number one – three on three. We can't all participate in Vick's first fight no matter how much we all want to, capiche?" He cocked his head in Vick's direction; she was standing a few feet away, arm in arm with Falco and her other arm draped around Yami's too-skinny waist. "I think it's only fair that we leave the majority of this up to you, babe – what do you say? Pick five guys from the group here, then we'll split up."

Vick nodded first in Lucario's direction, then in Wolf's, and finally in Link's; as they were separating themselves from the larger group Vick followed them, dragging Falco and Yami with her. Wolf and Lucario exchanged a mildly surprised glance. Here they'd assumed that the process of Vick choosing from a group of people who were all inexplicably close to her heart in their own way would take quite a long time, only to find that she had settled the dispute on her own in little more than five seconds. Most of them were watching Wolf somewhat expectantly, as though they assumed he would delegate the rest of the set up, so he cleared his throat and hastened to oblige.

"This is a good group… diverse. That's what you need – exposure to a wide range of different battle techniques." The lupine cracked his knuckles, his claws glinting in the sunlight. "Alright, I'll head the other team against you. Pick your first teammate."

Vick's face fell – Wolf felt a twinge of guilt at her expression. "I… have to fight against… you?"

Wolf allowed his expression to soften just a little when he said, "Did you want me on your team?"

"Well, yeah!" She bit down on her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. It really was fortunate that Wolf was naturally so taciturn, otherwise he might have changed his mind with just one glimpse at her piteous face. Nevertheless, he plastered a cocksure grin onto his face and crossed his arms.

"Well tough shit, toots. You'll be fighting against me, so put your big girl panties on and put the cheese back in the fridge."

Vick's pout abruptly vanished. "What cheese?"

Wolf chuckled cruelly. "The cheese you got to go with your _whine_."

"Dude," Falco crowed, thrusting out a hand for Wolf to high-five, "_burn_."

"That was lame," Yami chuckled, "but freaking hilarious."

Vick was rolling her eyes so hard that Wolf wouldn't have been surprised to find she'd wound up with a headache, but when their eyes next met she was all business. It was fortunate, Lucario wondered bemusedly, that Wolf seemed to know precisely how to handle her; Vick's determination to fit in and pose no liability to them of any kind was her single greatest motivation, and when Wolf challenged her she was quick to take the bait. Vick pointed in Lucario's direction, ending his train of thought. "You." When her tone came across a shade sterner than she'd intended, however, her face softened. "I… I need you, Luca. I need your support."

_And as in all things, you shall have it._ Lucario moved close to her and wrapped his arms around her from behind, balancing his chin upon her shoulder. Vick smiled sweetly at Wolf, and he scowled back at her.

"Smile now, because later you'll be holding a steak on that cute little bottom lip of yours." Wolf appraised his options but knew already his choice. "What do you say, ostrich? Feel like being on the winning team for a change?"

Falco took a step toward Wolf, paused to ponder the implications of his question, and asked, "Just who was that insult aimed at?"

"I know, right? Only a real asshole can insult multiple people at once." Wolf winked at Vick. "Your move, sweetheart."

Vick cocked her head toward Lucario's ear. "Who do we want?"

Lucario growled low in the back of his throat and did something he very rarely did – he dropped a sexual innuendo. _I know who I want._ His eyes darkened to crimson as he said this, and he regarded Link with dilated pupils. Oblivious as usual, Link smiled mildly back and waggled his fingers in a kind of timid and awkward wave. Vick rolled her eyes again.

"Go get him, tiger." Vick crooked a finger, motioning for Link to join them.

Wolf's expression soured. "Guess that leaves us with the high and mighty King of Lames."

Yami glared daggers at the lupine and didn't move even a fraction to join him, despite the fact that Falco hovered nearby. "It's the King of _Games_, you backwoods trash."

Wolf shrugged as though it hardly mattered. "Potayto, potahto. Brawl on at seven?"

"Oh good," Midna interjected, one hand rubbing her stomach now. "I'm about to chew off my own arm over here."

"Ditto," agreed Sonic. "Food?"

"T Bell!" Falco and Yami shouted together, and they spent the next twenty minutes taking everyone's fast food orders.

* * *

><p>They were waiting in line in the drive-thru three cars back, Yami with one arm out the driver's side window of his sinister '51 Mercury and Falco slouched low in the passenger seat, when Falco decided to pop the question. "So you free tomorrow?"<p>

Yami started and snapped his head around to regard the avian. "Beg pardon?"

Falco leaned forward and dialed down the volume on the Led Zeppelin tune they had been mouthing the words to until it was little more than an incomprehensible murmur in the background. "Well while this fly by the seats of our pants method we've been practicing is both irritating and fun, I think it's obvious that we're never gonna get some time to ourselves unless we start planning it. So what do you say? Tomorrow?"

Yami couldn't help but laugh. "I can't exactly tell you I'm busy – we live in the same house, and none of us _ever_ have plans. How do our days fill up so fast?"

"You got me." Falco cocked an eyebrow. "You dodging?"

It was all too easy. "We playing dodgeball?"

Exasperation colored Falco's tone. "No, moron – you dodging the invite? Cause don't worry, I don't get all Madonna-drama when somebody turns me down for a date."

"I'm not turning you down," laughed Yami, doubling over and clutching his sides as he chuckled now. "It was an honest question! I can see where you would assume it was a dodge."

Falco motioned toward the asphalt curve they were supposed to be following – they had fallen two car lengths behind, and it was almost their turn to order. Yami hastily put his foot down and the '51 eased forward with the grace of a hunting cat. "Well, drinking and staving off the occasional attack from a psycho rapist does take up a lot of time."

"You think Wesker's a rapist?" Yami's face lost some color.

"You think he had Vick's pants down because he was about to give her a gyno exam?" Falco spat as an uncouth reply, and the King of Games shuddered delicately. "Can we focus? We have the rest of our lives to develop ulcers over this whole Wesker/Legato thing."

Yami pulled himself together. "Right, tomorrow." He was unable to suppress a snicker. "I'll have to check my schedule."

"Oh forget it! I've lost interest. My day just filled up."

The '51 glided up beside the ordering screen, the marquee filled with descriptions and images of trashy Mexican food looming over them. Yami was suddenly busy giving thirteen separate orders to the overwhelmed high school boy who had been unfortunate enough to don the drive-thru headset for the dinner shift. Ten minutes later they were pulling away from the ordering screen, taking bets on just how incorrect their order would be.

"Ten bucks it's three items." Falco fingered the volume dial as they settled back to wait at the firmly closed drive-thru window; Styx was on.

"Double or nothing, five." Yami tilted his head lazily in Falco's direction. "So, tomorrow?"

"You said you were busy."

"Did not. Said I'd have to check my schedule. _You_ said you'd lost interest."

Falco theatrically threw an arm over his eyes. "We could do this all day. We'll rent a boat, tool around on the lake for awhile, hit up my fashion consultant for a meeting? I'll call Angelique and see if I can set up a glance into the trunk show or something."

"A hooker on our first date? Isn't that usually a third date kind of thing?" Yami's face was red with barely contained laughter, and Falco glowered at him.

"You've been hanging around me waaaaay too much," chuckled the avian. "Angelique is my contact at Fortunata Fashions. I Skyped with her a few nights ago and she mentioned they were launching the summer goth line next week, if I was interested in hitting the trunk show or hanging catwalk-side. You still interested in that?"

"Sure." The drive-thru window opened and the frazzled adolescent in the headset started handing sacks of food out to Yami one at a time, doing his best not to ogle at the car. "What the hell do you wear to a fashion consultation?"

"We'll go through your closet. If you don't have anything, we'll hit up Hot Topic." Falco passed Yami a credit card – the young employee, in his haste to be rid of them, had forgotten to ask them to pay. Yami's mouth twitched upward when he read the name printed on the front of the card – it was Marth's of course.

"So it's a date?" gushed Yami, unable to keep from sounding like a sixteen-year-old girl who had just been asked to the prom. The drive-thru guy rolled his eyes as he passed the credit card back through the window.

"You bet. I'll drive. Just make sure you bring your keys, cause I'm driving your '51."

* * *

><p>After two and a half beers, Link felt just brave enough to go looking for Lucario. He found the Aura Guardian alone in the middle of the backyard, his pale blue Aura flickering around him and the grass beneath his feet whipping up as though caught up in a strong wind. Intent on watching instead of intervening Link took a seat on the bottommost stair, cradling the half-full bottle of O'Douls between his hands and rolling the cool glass in his palms as he looked on with quiet awe. After a time Lucario's Aura dulled, and when all was calm and silent he half-turned to regard the Hero of Time.<p>

"Sorry… did I distract you?" Link ran a hand through his hair, tousling the strands messily and wringing a small chuckle from Lucario.

_I felt your presence._ Lucario loped the length of the yard until he had reached the wooden staircase; there he leaned against the banister, looking down at Link with his familiar expression of serenity. _When I am tapped deeply into my Aura I am far more in-tune with everyone's whereabouts, and a person's state of mind becomes easier to interpret. It's a sixth sense, so to speak._

"So, what, you were trying to sense something?" Link glanced past Lucario to the approximate spot the Pokemon had been standing on a minute ago, recalling what he had seen. What reason did Lucario have to be tapping into his Aura now, of all times? Was he preparing for the upcoming brawl?

Lucario shrugged. _Not particularly. Occasionally if I am deep in thought I will tap into my Aura subconsciously, which heightens my emotions. Often it is a useful slip of my self control – it tells me how I truly feel about a given situation._

"What were you thinking about?" Link asked densely, and Lucario couldn't help but chuckle again.

_To be honest… I was thinking about this… situation… of ours._ Lucario crossed his arms over his narrow chest and his eyes slitted as he frowned.

Link swallowed hard – his throat suddenly felt like sandpaper. "Oh?"

Lucario waved a hand at empty space in a haphazard means of gesturing to Link. _You have been battling back your discomfort with small but meaningful gestures all day – the kiss on the cheek, sharing your chair with me – and never once have you complained. I feel… almost guilty. It seems that you are really struggling, Link._

"Well… it's new, and confusing. In a lot of ways it feels like a struggle." Link wanted to kick himself the second the words had tumbled from his mouth. Here he was, alone with the man he cared more deeply for than ever, and he was bluntly admitting that expressing his affections was more or less a chore?

Lucario sighed and slumped down to sit beside Link on the bottommost stair, accepting the bottle of O'Douls and taking a grateful swig. When he handed the bottle back to Link their eyes met, and Lucario voiced the rest of his thoughts. _Link, it's alright – I am not angry, and you haven't upset me. I have made it perfectly clear that I care about you, and I am willing to give you a second chance. However, I understand that the prospect of entering into a relationship with me could be frightening for you. I would be no better than Mewtwo if I pressured you to get past your discomfort so quickly._

Link sipped at the beer thoughtfully, his eyes fixed upon a ladybug slowly traversing an extra-long blade of grass at his feet. There was a deep, dark, seldom-addressed fear lingering in a black crevice within his mind, the entire reason that he was entertaining doubts at all, and he felt he would go mad if he didn't voice it. "What if I can't give you everything you want? Don't get me wrong – I'm ready to try this, and I'll do my damndest to make you feel the way that you deserve to feel, but… What if it isn't enough? What if I don't make you happy?"

Lucario answered with his warm eyes-only smile. _What if I don't want perfection? What if I just want you?_

"Well that I can do," Link chuckled, his face growing hot as a blush crept up his neck. "I do imperfection pretty well."

_Link – _

But the Hylian silenced Lucario with an expression of desperation, the kind of look someone wore when they had something more they couldn't bear to let go unsaid; he seized Lucario's hands in both of his own and said in a tormented voice, "It's the truth – I'm not perfect. I couldn't be more your opposite. You know exactly who you are and how you feel and what you want and I'm still a little vague on all of those details, myself. You're at peace with yourself and the man you've become and I'm still wrestling with the prospect of making this change. Because I don't want this to be a temporary thing… I…" Link sucked in a deep, steadying breath before finishing, "I want this to be a permanent change. I don't want to hide anymore… I want this to be who I am."

Lucario leaned forward and nuzzled into Link's neck; the Hylian paused only for a moment before disentangling their hands so that he could wrap his arms around the Aura Guardian. Holding Lucario to his chest made Link realize just how physically fragile the Pokemon truly was; it reinforced in him the desire to be his protector, to be the man that Lucario depended on. Lucario issued a sigh of contentment before saying, _I believe that it is who you are – I have suspected as much all along. But do not forget that this is not as simple as deciding where you should eat for dinner, or even where you should live… This is your lifestyle, Link. This is a decision regarding the person you will be from this point forward. These changes do not occur in the course of a single day. You must allow yourself time to adjust._

"I don't want you to wait. I want to make you happy, right now."

Lucario shifted and raised his head, though he didn't make a move to leave the circle of Link's strong arms; his breath tickled Link's cheek, and they were almost nose to nose. _I am happy right now_. And he leaned a fraction closer so that he could press his muzzle briefly to Link's lips.

The simple gesture lasted barely a millisecond, but it incited within Link some of the strongest physical reactions he had ever felt. The moment their lips touched it seemed that a mild electric current passed between them; for Link, this was both terrifying and undeniably pleasant. The electric charge raced from his pale lips and straight down his spine in a way that made him shiver involuntarily, and the resulting shudder left what felt like a pool of molten heat deep in the pit of his stomach. That fraction of a second with Lucario, he silently decided, was more intense than the half-formed, hazy images of the entire night he had spent with Zelda.

His words failed to mirror the extraordinary emotions he was feeling – as they often did. "Oh. Wow."

Lucario blinked slowly once, somehow managing to convey that he was deeply flattered using just his eyes. The expression faltered almost at once, though, and dissolved into deep concern. _Are you alright? Was that… okay?_

Link opened his mouth to say something reassuring, but then realization crashed down upon him as swiftly and mercilessly as a tidal wave. He had just shared his very first kiss with a man – and not only had he enjoyed it immensely, the amount of pleasure it had given him was simply overwhelming. Fear replaced happiness then, and before he knew it he was hugging Lucario fiercely to him and fighting the urge to tremble.

_Link?_ Lucario's voice was frantic as he struggled to look the Hylian in the eye, but Link overpowered him easily, his arm locking Lucario's head gently yet firmly to his chest. _Link, what is it?_

"I'm alright," Link managed to gasp out, though his voice betrayed his inner terror. "I'll be alright, just give me a second."

Ten minutes later, Falco found the two of them in precisely the same position; thankfully, he had a Budweiser on hand for each of them, and he distributed both before taking a seat on the grass facing them. "Something happen?"

Unwilling to release Lucario from his arms, Link pried the top off the bottle with his teeth before spitting it into the grass and taking a grateful swallow of the beer. Thankfully with Falco, there was never a need to beat around the bush with any topic. "Yeah – he kissed me, and I ruined the moment by bawling like a baby."

_Oh hush,_ snapped Lucario disapprovingly, in a defensive tone of voice that made Falco smile. _You didn't bawl like a baby_.

Falco went for a humoristic approach. "Were you crying because Luca is such a bad kisser?"

"Of course not!" Link raged.

_He wasn't crying!_ howled Lucario.

"Then what's the problem?" Falco continued to pry, and it was evident in his voice that he was genuinely confused. Lucario squirmed in Link's arms, obviously determined to break away, and this time the Hylian allowed it.

_I… I apologize,_ Lucario mumbled, and Link narrowed his eyes.

"Don't you dare apologize! It was just new, and I wasn't really prepared to be so…" Link cast around for the appropriate word before finishing, "…overwhelmed."

Lucario's face lit up like a Christmas tree. _I overwhelmed you?_

"Oh trust me," Link insisted. "That was more overwhelming than the last ten minutes of the movie Titanic."

Falco burst into laughter before clambering to his feet and ruffling Link's hair with his free hand. "Buddy, no offense, but if you're referencing Titanic it's pretty obvious that you're gay… not that there's anything wrong with that, of course." He squeezed in between the pair of them and headed up the wooden staircase to the back porch, where he called over his shoulder, "Food's here, by the way."

Link leapt to his feet at once, pulling Lucario with him; the moment they were nose to nose the Hylian encircled the Aura Guardian with his arms again, pulling him closer until Lucario's head rested against his chest. "Go out with me tomorrow. Please."

_As part of a date-type setting?_ Lucario chided, and Link sighed.

"Come on, I'm really putting myself out on a limb here," he begged. "Say that you'll come. I… I really like you. I want to be okay with this."

Lucario giggled into Link's chest. _Where are we going?_

"Dammit," said Link with mock irritation. "Is there no mystery left in romance anymore?! Can't a guy take another guy out to an as-yet-undetermined location?!"

_Oh, I suppose_, Lucario sniffled, and then he burst into a round of giddy laughter.

Link exhaled sharply as though he had been holding his breath in trepidation, prompting Lucario to laugh again. "Okay, then let's go eat. All of this nervousness has got me famished."

* * *

><p>Wolf took his four bean burritos and a third-full bottle of Jack Daniels straight to his bedroom without a word to anyone, and amidst glances that were half concern and half suspicion Vick gathered up her chicken quesadilla and her daiquiri-filled margarita glass and headed after him. Climbing the flight of stairs up to the second floor felt somehow ominous; every other member of the household had congregated in the kitchen to share a conversation over their food, and the second floor of the mansion was vacant and eerily silent. Vick tried the knob to Wolf's closed door and was unsurprised when it wouldn't turn.<p>

As her hands were full, Vick settled for kicking the door with the toe of her boot. "Your door is locked! Let me in!"

"You're damn right the door is locked, you fuckin' genius," came the gruff reply from the other side of the door, "and it's gonna stay that way. Get lost."

This time, Vick stood her ground. "No. I'm not going anywhere so you might as well let me in. You should talk to someone – self-isolation is the first sign of clinical depression."

Wolf scoffed. "You a psychologist now?"

"Nah – I totally made that up. I only want in because I'm gonna want a shot of Jack after I pound this daiquiri, and you have the bottle in there with you." This was, of course, a lie, but it served its purpose when moments later there came the sound of a lock being slid back. Never one to question good fortune, Vick shouldered her way in and then hip-bumped the door shut behind her.

Wolf was seated on the floor in the precise center of his room, cross-legged upon one of the bean bags he had stolen from Marth's room. Two empty burrito wrappers lay crinkled in front of him, and a third was open with a half-eaten burrito laying forgotten on top of it; the television wasn't on, the stereo was quiet, and even Wolf's beloved Xbox was powered down. Vick's heart panged with sympathy when her eyes fell upon the bottle of whiskey – Wolf had put a significant dent in the remaining alcohol already, and since she didn't see a glass anywhere she assumed he had been drinking it straight from the bottle in unmediated amounts. She pulled up a bean bag directly across from him, plopped down into it, and added her food and drink to the pile in the center. "So… what happened?"

The lupine regarded her with his single visible eye; though the other worked perfectly now that he had sold his soul to the demon lord Sebastian, he still preferred to wear his eye patch. The eye Vick glanced back into was already slightly glazed with inebriation. "I'm sitting alone in my room drinking Jack straight from the bottle. What the hell do you think happened?"

Vick tore into the flimsy quesadilla wrapper and devoured the first slice, knocking it back with a sizeable swig of the daiquiri. "So he just owned up to everything? You must be pretty persuasive – how did you get him to confess?"

Wolf attacked the rest of his third burrito the way Vick imagined a wild animal would take down its prey; had the situation been different, she might have laughed. "I made it impossible for him to lie. I called Leon's cell while I was on the phone with Fox, and I heard it ring, and then we were all screaming at each other." Wolf seized the bottle of whiskey by the neck and overturned it, guzzling the alcohol like water; Vick watched him without protest but couldn't help feeling mildly disgusted by what she saw. "Leon spilled the entire story, and Fox didn't deny any of it."

"So that's it?" Vick sounded highly offended at the thought, which Wolf supposed she was on his behalf. "Fox left you for that… that _sadist_?"

"Babe, don't knock the sadists – let's face it, they're exactly your type. And hell no, they're not together: I told Leon that if he ended his whatever-you-call-it with Fox that I'd offer him his place back on Star Wolf with full benefits and job security for life. Call Powalski whatever you like, but at the end of the day he's still all of the things I want on my squad."

"Emotionless?" Vick spat. "Cold? Murderous and unpredictable?"

Wolf's expression neared a glare; it was clear that he didn't take offensive comments against his favored wingmate and longtime comrade very well at all. "I'll give you that he's aloof, but under all of his emotional bullshit he's still one of the best strategists I've ever met – not to mention that his hand-to-hand combat skills are superb, and he's damn good in the cockpit of any single-man spacecraft. That's the kind of man I need at my back in the war."

Vick went for another quesadilla, tugging at strings of cheese with her fingertips until they broke. "You're not in the war, Wolf. The war is on hiatus, and that's not why you did this."

"What the hell do you know about my intentions?!" Wolf roared, and he made to snatch up the bottle of whiskey again but Vick darted out with one hand and grabbed it first.

"I know that in spite of your would-be-tough-guy act – which is completely believable, by the way, so bravo – you're really hurting over this. You're just like me deep down: you're a suffer-in-silence type. And I've been watching you stew over this thing with Fox for weeks now, ever since he interviewed with Black Sapphire and quit hanging around here. You can say whatever you like in your defense, but the reason you're acting so hostile toward me is because you have no other outlet for the way you feel. Fox isn't here so you can't scream at him, or break his ribs, or set your demon butler on him, or whatever – you're stuck stewing over it in your own head again. You didn't renew Leon's contract because you wanted his service – if that was true, you would have made amends and never fired him in the first place. You renewed his contract because you knew he would willingly ditch Fox if he thought that was the only way he could get back in your good books. You did this because you wanted Fox to wind up alone and miserable, just like you have."

Wolf made another desperate grab for the bottle – it was amazing just how much hand-eye coordination he had retained despite the amount of alcohol he had already consumed. "So what if that's why I did it? You gonna judge me?"

Vick laughed out loud once as she shifted the bottle into one arm, and with her free hand she caught Wolf's groping arm at the wrist and tugged; the lupine overbalanced and lurched forward, and sliding the bottle safely behind her along the carpet Vick wound her arms around him and held him fast to her chest. For a moment or two the mercenary commander attempted to resist, but just as quickly as his rage had descended upon him it evaporated; mere seconds later he went limp against her and returned the embrace with desperation, and they clung to one another in an odd position over the pile of half-eaten Mexican takeout. Vick thought she felt the lupine's broad shoulders bob once or twice as she held him, but when he at last drew back he looked as surly as ever.

"Thanks," he grumbled, and he slit the wrapping off his last burrito with the claw of his index finger. "I guess I needed that."

"You're welcome." Vick shoved the rest of her quesadilla toward him, not at all surprised when he inhaled the fourth burrito and immediately set upon devouring the last of her food also. She capped the bottle of Jack Daniels while he thoughtfully chewed his last few bites, and only when he glared at her expectantly and held his hand out for it did she continue. "No, you're not getting this back – I want you at your best for this brawl tonight, because if you come at me with only half your heart in it I am gonna be offended. You got it?"

Wolf heaved a sigh. "Yeah, yeah, I got it."

It was the complete and utter misery saturating Wolf's tone of voice that prompted Vick to ask, "Hey, what are you doing tomorrow? Are you free?"

"I'll be doing this." The lupine scooped up the empty food wrappers and deposited them in the waste basket standing beside the television before flopping down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling with slightly-glazed eyes. "Laying around, boozing… with any luck I'll feel up to gaming a little, but I doubt it."

"So… you're free?" Vick prodded.

Wolf lolled his head to one side and glared at her through his good eye. "You deaf? I just said I was gonna be drinking my body weight and shooting Nazis. That means I'm busy. _Soy ocupado._"

Vick shrugged. "Too bad. I'm staging an intervention. We're going out tomorrow, all day, and we'll do whatever it takes to put you in a better mood, okay? I hate seeing you like this. We'll have a good time, I promise."

"Then the first thing on my list is going to a strip club," Wolf admitted.

"Fine by me," Vick fired back. "I'll buy you a lap dance."

* * *

><p>It was overcast, breezy, and almost unbearably humid when the members of Brawlers Mansion congregated on the back porch for the proposed seven o' clock three-on-three match; the not-so-distant lake was devoid of any boat traffic, and small whitecaps formed on the water's surface as the canopies of the nearest trees bowed beneath the wind. Yami was quick-shuffling through his Duel Monsters deck, occasionally plucking out a card and replacing it with one from his reserve deck; Falco was loading his belt down with clips of energy ammunition, and Link was walking the Master Sword through a few last-minute warm up maneuvers. Lucario had returned to his place in the center of the yard and seemed to be meditating on the battle that was to come, while fifty feet away Wolf re-checked the magazine of his reserve rifle, an outdated but well-cared-for Katinan make with a shorter, thicker barrel . Vick stood alone on the porch as the bystanders clambered up to the best spectator spots on the roof, the custom Zonessian rifle resting along her back and her hands clenched into slightly-trembling fists at her sides. It may have been ten minutes or just one, but before she was ready Link and Lucario were scaling the porch steps to set up a battle strategy.<p>

"Falco is armed with short-range firearms," Link said in an undertone, "which means he's planning on staying in close. Luca, this one is going to get physical."

Lucario's brow was furrowed – he was deep in thought. _Wolf has a rifle loaded, but it looks like he's also brought a revolver._ He nodded to indicate the adamantine revolver strapped to the outside of the lupine's thigh, and Vick made a note not to get within three hundred feet of him. _I would guess that Falco and Yami are intending to pair off against us, and Wolf will be testing Vick's long-distance skills._

"That's the only logical explanation I can think of," Link agreed, and he glanced Vick's way. "This is probably Wolf's idea, Vick… Think you'll be okay? It's not that I don't think you can handle it, it's… well…"

Vick shrugged, hardly offended by his uncertainty. "It's what? That he's got years of experience under his belt? I'm not stupid, Link. I know that if I give him half a chance, he'll blow my head off."

Though Vick said the words flippantly and they both knew she was joking, neither of them could quite suppress a wince. "And what if Yami manages to get in close?" Link asked as an afterthought.

Vick sidestepped her two teammates and approached the railing, and after shouting Wolf's name to get his attention she asked, "Are you opposed to the use of your rifle as a baseball bat?"

Wolf glowered back at her, but the mental image her question brought to mind was so entertaining that he said, "Whatever – you break it, you buy it."

"Deal." Vick cracked her knuckles. "Game on?"

"Deal? That's a vintage sniper rifle, woman – one of only a few dozen left in the entire galaxy. You'd need at least a quarter mil to repay me. And I gotta say – if you're lookin' to pull down that kinda cash, you're gonna have to start dancing on a different counter. Probably with a pole between your legs."

"Or I could steal one," Vick shot back disdainfully. "You think you're the only one with a shoplifting career under your belt?"

"Can we focus?" Falco shouted up at them, spinning one of his energy-powered pistols end-over-end in an anxious sort of way. "Kirby? Wanna get this show on the road?"

The chubby little pink denizen of Dreamland bounded out to the center of the yard, one of Wolf's stolen Nerf guns clutched in one of his stubby arms; he chattered incomprehensively at all of them for a few seconds, presumably outlining the rules they had laid out earlier that day, before lifting the plastic firearm over his head and pulling the trigger. The moment the neon-orange foam dart jettisoned from the barrel and launched into the air the six of them burst into motion, and the spectators situated on the low-hanging roof leaned forward in anticipation of the brawl that was about to unfold.

Lucario flung himself over the rail of the back porch and floated gracefully to the ground as Link barreled down the stairs after him, and before either of them had quite found their feet Falco launched his first volley of shots in their direction. Most of these shots flew wide simply because the avian was aiming at moving targets, but a few of them almost found their mark – a flare of Lucario's Aura deflected a few that would have otherwise inflicted superficial wounds, and Link's reflexes were quick enough to block another handful with the blade of the Master Sword. The moment their feet hit the grass of the backyard and they started forward to confront their adversaries Yami drew a handful of cards from his dueling gauntlet, studied them with the quick but keen eyes of a seasoned professional, and launched two of them into face-up position.

"In attack mode, the Celtic Guardian. In defense mode, the Castle of Dark Illusions!"

The first card was one that Link and Lucario were vaguely familiar with, for it was one of Yami's favorite opening plays and they had both battled it in training sessions past. Link raised his blade into an overhead parry and effectively staved off the celtic swordsman's first stroke, a downward slash that was aimed directly at Lucario, and as the Hero of Time engaged Yami's swordsman in one-on-one combat Lucario strafed around him with his eyes on Falco –

The second card struck the ground and burst into a cloud of shadow particles, and from the dark fog materialized a three-story floating castle. The structure was grand enough to draw the gazes of everyone in attendance – except for Link, who knew that even a moment's slip of focus would likely cost him a great deal – as it rose from the ground with its great black turrets stretching toward the sky. Wolf snickered to himself and leapt onto the base of the floating castle, taking cover as it continued rise into the air and saying, "Nice move, Yami, I'm gonna need some height because I have a feeling I know where Vick is gonna go next."

Lucario drew up short, ogling the dark castle as it floated into position and hovered ominously several hundred feet above them. _I think for the time being I'll just ignore this_.

"Agreed!" shouted Link, who was so busy fending off attacks from Yami's Celtic Guardian that he couldn't even spare a glance in Lucario's direction as the Aura Guardian dodged the next round of energy bullets from Falco's pistol.

Vick watched the entire thing unfold with a sort of quiet terror rimming her eyes, and didn't snap out of her reverie until Wolf cracked off a shot that was so close to her face that it stirred her hair as it went past; whipping her head to one side she glimpsed the neat little hole the laser round had burned through one of the sitting room windows, and in a fit of panic she slung her own rifle over her shoulder and scrambled up the low-hanging roof to fling herself behind the chimney.

"I'll give you a little credit," Wolf called from the safety of the dark tower. "If I were you, that's exactly where I would've gone."

"Gee, thanks," Vick shouted back, and from the cover of the chimney she rolled her eyes.

"You're not gonna get any decent shots if you hide back there all day!" As if to prove his point Wolf leaned around the parapet currently serving as his defensible position of choice and sighted down the barrel of the Katinan rifle briefly before firing on Link. Vick clutched the rifle with both hands and listened for a cry of pain that would serve as a clear indicator Wolf's shot had found its mark, but the sound of swords continuously clashing together suggested that perhaps the second shot of the lupine's had missed also.

"What was that you said earlier?" Vick chided with an ounce of superiority in her tone. "Wait for the right shot, and all that?"

"Yeah?" A little of the brick that constructed the chimney flaked away near Vick's right ear as Wolf targeted her position and fired off a shot meant just to rattle her. "You think about that, babe."

Lucario took advantage of Wolf's momentary distraction and broke free of his battle with Falco long enough to send an Aura Sphere spiraling upward toward the spot where the lupine had taken refuge; Wolf noticed it coming out of the corner of his eye just a split second too late, and though he managed to minimize the damage he still took the blast to his left arm. The sphere scorched the sleeve of his flight jacket and singed the hair beneath, but other than that it wasn't a serious injury.

Still, Wolf was irate. "Goddammit Luca, this jacket cost me a fortune!"

_Then I recommend that you either stop giving in to your inherently expensive tastes, or stop being such a bully,_ Lucario shot back scathingly, but by then Falco had taken up his pistol and started shooting again, effectively ending any further debate.

Yami's Celtic Guardian was a hulking brute of a swordsman, Link decided, for he stood head and shoulders taller than Link and outweighed him by at least fifty pounds. Though his strokes were not as complicated or as quickly executed as Link's the celtic swordsman was still far stronger of arm, which he proved when a backhand swing of his broadsword stung Link's fingertips so badly that the Master Sword was jolted from his grasp. He managed to dodge a few more of the Celtic Guardian's attacks, all the while backpedaling in search of his fallen blade, but Wolf was now sighting the Hero of Time down the barrel of his rifle and his finger was inching its way toward the trigger –

Vick risked a quick glance around the side of the chimney and assessed the situation as thoroughly as she dared, and taking note of both Link's predicament and Wolf's momentary shift of attention she set the butt of the rifle against the inside of her shoulder, leaned around the pale brick chimney, took a deep breath, and fired her first shot since the brawl had started. She could have shot at Wolf, knowing that if her aim was true he would surely be unable to avoid it, but she chose instead to target Yami's Celtic Guardian as it raised its broadsword to cleave Link in two. The shot was right on the money – though she would have been angry if she had missed, for her target was quite broad – and drilled the Celtic Guardian square in the chest; Yami's monster exploded into thousands of shining particles as the card zipped back into his hand, and frowning he drew again from his deck.

It was fortunate that Vick ducked back behind the chimney the moment her shot was away, for in the next instant Wolf and Falco both trained their weapons in her direction and peppered both sides of the chimney with laser energy.

_Get him!_ Lucario shouted at Link, who was scrabbling back to his feet. _Before he has time to summon another card!_

Falco trained his gun on Link and opened fire, forcing Link to dive to one side and roll several times to avoid taking any fire. Lucario's Aura flared to life around him and he formed an Aura Sphere in his hand to cast the avian's way, but Wolf fired from the dark castle and the sphere flew harmlessly wide as he danced away. By the time either of them had regained their footing, Yami was already tossing his next card combination to the ground. "Doma, the Angel of Silence! Attack mode!"

"Hands over your ears!" Vick cried, and though Lucario heeded the warning and clapped his paws over his ears Link could only cover one or risk dropping his sword and leaving himself open to attack. The moment the card was in play and the dark angel called Doma had materialized in front of Yami it opened its mouth wide and uttered an awful shriek, much like the cry of a banshee; the terrible sound struck Link's unprotected ear and he buckled to one knee, throwing his sword up clumsily over his head in the best form of defense he could muster.

Vick heard his growls of agony and leaned around her protective cover to size up her next shot, but Wolf was waiting for her this time and pulled the trigger first. It was really a superb shot; Vick had only exposed her right arm from shoulder to elbow as well as the right side of her face, and still Wolf managed to hit her! The laser bullet passed within inches of the pale brick of the chimney, sliced across her right cheek just millimeters from her lips, and zipped right on by as though its trajectory had not changed. She put her hand up to her face and dabbed gently, unsurprised when she pulled it back and found that her fingers were stained crimson.

Rage bubbled up inside of her. "You _bastard_! That was my goddamned _face_!"

And she leaned around the chimney, fully intending to unleash hell in the form of a stream of uninterrupted rifle bolts, to find that retribution had already come Wolf's way in the form of Akabane Kuroudo.

Wolf never even saw him coming; one moment he was sighting down the barrel of the outdated Katinan rifle, preparing to shoot Vick's way again if she so much as left an eyelash exposed, and the next moment Akabane had materialized behind him on the very parapet behind which he crouched, leapt, and struck the lupine square in the back of the head with his elbow. The strength behind the blow was enough to knock Wolf down from the dark castle, and if Yami hadn't ordered his Angel of Silence to his aid the lupine may have fallen to his death. As it was he stumbled out of the angel's arms, his good eye slightly unfocused, and opened his mouth to violently curse his attacker –

To find that the demon in possession of his soul, the man he knew only as Sebastian, was already standing there facing Akabane in his stead.

For a long moment there was silence on the battlefield as Akabane and Sebastian stared one another down, and then, if possible, Akabane's face grew even more deathly pale than his usual abnormal pallor. Some sort of comprehension dawned on Sebastian's face, and for whatever reason he chuckled lightly into the back of his white gloved hand.

"Akabane!" the demon greeted, his tone cordial and friendly, and all heads swiveled in Akabane's direction.

"S-Sebastian?" Vick actually leaned around the chimney and brought herself fully into view, for she had never known Akabane to stammer and didn't consider him the type to fear anyone. "Is it… Can it truly be you?"

"You guys know each other?" Wolf asked, though his words were mildly slurred and his vision still hadn't quite refocused.

"Of course we know one another," Sebastian replied, as though the lupine's question were absurd. "We are brothers. Akabane is my twin. He murdered me when we were children."

This was more information than any of them were prepared to absorb in such a short amount of time, and in an effort to ease some of the tension Wolf said, "Dude, you killed my demon butler? That is _so_ not cool."

"It was necessary at the time," Akabane growled defensively, though his eyes never left his twin's. "We were under the impression that my brother's sacrifice would keep hell from spilling over."

"Are we talking about the creepy haunted village with the crazy occult camera that supposedly takes pictures of ghosts?" Midna shouted from the rooftop. "Because I'm still not sure I buy that story… Didn't somebody say the camera disintegrated or something?"

_Enough, Midna_, Lucario warned. _Now is obviously not the time._

"Wait… so…" Link was shaking his head rapidly from side to side, working to catch up. "So you killed your own brother?! Like, actually killed him with your own hands?!"

"Literally," Akabane clarified with a kind of rueful smile. "Asphyxiation."

"Heavy," Falco croaked out, and snapping his head back and forth from one to the next he added, "You know, you do look a lot alike. Same complexion. Same hair color. Same uber-creepy eyes. I buy it."

Sebastian spread his arms as if to draw Akabane's attention, and when he was certain his twin's eyes were upon him he gestured toward Wolf and said, "Unfortunately I have come here because I felt that you just attacked Mr. O'Donnell. You see, Mr. O'Donnell and I have reached an arrangement. Not long ago he was killed in battle, and when I arrived to accompany his soul to heaven he rejected the promise of a pleasant afterlife in favor of returning to the living world. Naturally I claimed his soul for my own, but I made good on my end of the bargain by bringing him back here. Until he passes on again and I can take his soul with me back into hell, I am bound to protect him. If you insist on harming him further, I will have no choice but to intervene… even though you are my brother."

Every eye was on Wolf now – several of them stared at him with gaping mouths, and more than one of them regarded him with eyes filled with tears – but the lupine steadfastly ignored all of them, keeping his gaze fixed stubbornly upon Akabane. Akabane cocked his head to one side, seeking the silver-blonde bartender who was peeking around the side of the chimney. "Your face?"

"Er," stammered Vick, half in trepidation and half in embarrassment. "Bleeding?"

Akabane held one hand aloft and summoned a handful of his wickedly-sharp scalpels at will, his dark eyes reflecting some sort of resolute malice. "Then that is your answer."

The first of the scalpels actually slipped right over Sebastian's shoulder and tore through one of Wolf's ears on its way by, and the lupine clapped one hand over it and swore. "Holy shit! Goddamn it! _Ow!_"

"An eye for an eye," Akabane hissed, and he launched himself toward Wolf.

Sebastian intercepted him before he had even made it five feet, and the sound of their bodies colliding in midair was rather akin to the _crack_ a pair of large boulders would make upon impact; with gritted teeth and infuriated snarls they wrestled one another, leaving the others momentarily awed by their godlike strength –

"Oh fuck you, you almost tore my ear in half!" Wolf shrieked, and tossing the rifle to the ground near the Angel of Silence's feet he lowered himself into a predator's crouch before launching himself into the fray.

_I'm with Akabane this time,_ Lucario told Link flatly, and when the Hylian nodded his agreement they both leapt after Wolf and joined in. Unwilling to be left out Falco hefted his laser pistol and charged in with a battle cry, and upon recovering himself Yami ordered Doma the Angel of Silence to attack on his behalf.

"Twenty on the demon butler!" Marth giggled gleefully.

Midna rolled her eyes. "Double or nothing on the guy with the bizarre scalpel fetish!"

Vick rose from her crouch with the rifle clutched loosely in one hand, watching the carnage unfold before her eyes and feeling powerless to stop it. She had loved everyone who lived in Brawlers Mansion since the moment she had met them and vividly recalled every sacrifice they had made on her behalf, but still couldn't quite put her finger on just why they did the things they did. She had never considered herself to be anything special and had never really understood their blind devotion to her, and scenes like this one didn't make her happy, or feel honored. She cried for them to stop, she begged them to listen if only for a moment, and when none of them so much as turned an eye in her direction or even hesitated she began to feel the strongest emotion she had ever felt welling up deep within her chest. It seared her lungs with its intensity, it warmed her extremities, it blazed in her eyes a chilling and hardened silver that was almost white –

It wasn't the vague bliss she had felt before, and it wasn't the gut-wrenching despair that had followed. It was a white-hot, all-consuming rage.

"_STOP_!" she shrieked, her voice ripping through several octaves in her anger, and as they all watched her body burst into furious snow-white flames; she stretched out a hand toward them, seeming more like a destroying angel than the human they were all so familiar with, and a pure flurry of Aura descended upon them all like the millions of crystalline snowflakes that comprised a killing blizzard. The others ran for cover, their arms over their heads for protection as they sought refuge beneath the patio's overhang –

Lucario and Akabane stood together in the center of the backyard, gazing all around at the havoc Vick was wrecking, and exchanged a knowing smile with one another.

_Mission accomplished, _said Lucario with quiet pride shining in his eyes. _I told you it could be done._

Akabane nodded, wearing the closest expression to a grin Lucario had ever seen, and quoted, "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned."


End file.
